Graffiti

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I composed this at the beginning of 1992 and, sad to say, it is still relevant fifteen years later.



This ugly scrawl upon the wall was scribbled by a fool

who doesn't seem to understand society's golden rule.


He disrespects other people's rights as though it were official

that he is super-important, instead of superficial.


For this obnoxious behavior there's really no excuse,

but some people are stupid and think it has a use.


"It's modern art," some morons say, "rendered in sprayable paint."

Well, this expresses nothing of value and decorative it ain't.


Meaningful? This crude smear? I'll tell you what I see.

This expresses what a dog expresses when he goes and anoints a tree.


"I'm me! I'm here!" this spritzer proclaims as though we ought to care

about a boy who does nothing good, whose head is full of air.


Where's the talent, the well-trained skill required by the arts?

All this boy shows is vanity. He might as well blow farts.


If this had a smell, it would certainly stink, like garbage rotted and diseased.

Does he think his family is proud of this, that his mother is greatly pleased?


Or is it out of weakness that he chooses not to do his best?

Out of fear of putting his alleged skill to a real artistic test?


Afraid to fail, he guarantees the failure that he fears.

And developing real artistic skill takes way too many years.


But the years will pass by anyway and they'll only go to waste.

If he doesn't work to improve himself, achievement he'll never taste.


So will he become a true artist or go on being a cancer?

I don't know. It's up to him. Only he can give the answer.

ababhghgabab

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