To An Artist Poem by Lou Carlson

Everyday is like Monday
And the rain makes us grey
Will the paintings lose their colour
when April turns to May?

We paint us in madness
We are the kings in the chess
But no one ever understands us
When we spiritually undress

All the love we want to give
Can't they see it while we live
see we are conquers but so tender
We just hurt and forgive

Look at Yesterdays sorrow
Look at the pain of the past
The rich man steals and borrows
And never gives it back
Gives it back to us