top of page

A Painted Man

Paint me a picture

to describe how I’m feeling

when words cannot capture

the voices I’m hearing.


With dark

gloomy blues

paint my heart

torn in two.


With wet

sweeping strokes

paint my red

bleeding throat.


On thin

white canvas

paint my sin

unmask it.


Don’t let me leave

without painting your face

a face incomplete

a man made of paint.


I want to be naked

painted

and clothed.

A moment in life

alive

and exposed.


You’re a painted man

I’m a wordless picture

take what I am

expose every feature.

 

At its heart, this poem is about expression and a desire to be known. For many people, art is one method to do this. It creates emotion—both in the artist and the viewer—and, when studied, says a great deal about the artist. That has been the sole purpose of Tableau and The Founder’s work thus far, and this poem is pushing it further.

Concerning the desire to be exposed, this is often difficult to do verbally. Here is where art—any form of art—enters and eases the process. Rather than fully explain a painful experience, one can express it in a subtle yet incredibly vocal way. It creates comfort and healing for the creator and may produce the same in someone that views their work. While not everyone struggles in the same way and feels a need for creative expression, I believe it is important to notice its distinct voice. Whether we create or observe the creations of others, there is an opportunity to observe “dark gloomy blues” and bring them to conversation. Expression is merely the beginning of healing.

On another note, focused on Tableau, this poem may have great significance to our future here. Everything in the poem suggests The Founder is making a direct connection to the capsule—which has been quite active lately. I will include more detail in my notes tomorrow.

Hope Mixes

—The Translator


6 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Morel

The quiet meadow is his, cool and damp and cushioned, with trees to sleep against and moss along the rocks. Peculiar power has he over...

To One Who Would Write

Simply write And write well All you see and do; Write with words Like magic spells That mesmerize and soothe. Bring forward sword And...

tent of meeting

like dust before a flame my thoughts disintegrate what i had to say is singed smeared on the walls of my skull there is nothing now and...

Comments


bottom of page