Vincent Poem by Mark Pedersen

July 29,1890

Colored daubs and swatches
crave artist's practiced hand.
Justice, nearly blind, yet watches—
unwrought art upon a stand.

Regard the brushes in a row—
the palettes and the sponges.
Genius maimed by status quo,
vain a hope that fate expunges.

Guttered myriad lifelong dreams—
in desperate ruination.
Fading now the muffled screams
of self-inflicted termination.

Time Passes

Abruptly then adoring praise—
contrived their sudden expertise.
Rude cabal who would appraise—
byzantine their guileful sleaze.

Each masterpiece a servant
of craven yearn and greed.
Bang the gavel, swift and fervent;
sate purveyors' inveterate need.

Justice now is truly blind;
vanished those She would impute.
His final piece is left unsigned;
and undisclosed, for now She's mute.