A Doodle Is Worth A Picasso With Eyes Closed

Lights out in the gallery.

The darkness makes the masterpieces mute.

Now only the thieves creeping outside want to get in.

Across town forgers make forgery their business. Sold to people who want to buy history,

but they can’t see next door is an artist living on paint and coffee, surrounded by canvasses

brilliant with his originality that few care to see.

The most he can hope for is life after death through his paintings while the forgers get rich

and the thieves break in and steal the art away to be locked in vaults never to be seen.

And nobody steals from the poor artist, though his art is richer than the forged Picasso

that goes for millions.

We don’t need magic to exist, we just need to believe it could persist.

We don’t need proof for our faith.

We don’t need religion to help us pray;

we were drawing on cave walls before we knew how to say the Lord’s Prayer.

We don’t need to know why we love,

we just need to love the why.

6 thoughts on “A Doodle Is Worth A Picasso With Eyes Closed

  1. granbee

    And I love always being confronted ALWAYS with the GREAT WHY whenever I read your posts, Peter. Loving it that you make us ask “why”!

    1. cottonbombs Post author

      Lloyd Daniels reminds me of all the greatest poems ever written that were never shared. Grateful, maybe to the poet, but, the reader feels robbed.

      1. Steven Myers

        except on some out of the way ferry service to cross one more body of water,
        a wordsmith who retired their tongue many moons ago is inspired by the salty breeze and starts up the engine again and the words are not yet known to the surrounding ears and so no comparrisons can be made and for the first time in as long as anyone can remember, it feels like the first day.
        while somewhere in metropolis, shakespeare is insulted again.

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