Uncle Argath's Paintings

A chant poem--it's meant to repeat the same phrase.

 

Uncle Argath’s Paintings

 

He stares at paintings.

 

He stares at paintings that cleanse the mind.

He stares at paintings that disturb the soul.

He stares at paintings of holy worship and lust for life.

He stares at paintings of those drinking the blood of sacrificial lambs.

He stares at paintings of water crashing on the rock face.

 

He stares at paintings.

 

He stares at paintings of meaty women with porcelain skin.

He stares at paintings of men howling at the moon

     dancing with fire and dreaming of brimstone.

He stares at paintings that cut to the quick,

     make hearts feel sick, but sick with joy.

 

He stares at paintings.

 

He stares at paintings that fly with the time.

He stares at paintings to make the time fly by.

He stares at paintings of serene meadows under melting skies.

He stares at paintings to melt his brain.

He stares at paintings of waltzing Clydesdales.

 

He stares at paintings.

 

He stares at paintings of men playing Russian roulette

     with a blood-speckled knife and a singing quartet.

He stares at paintings of nuclear clocks,

     of mad tick-tocks—the clock has wrung.

He stares at paintings to ease the burden of breathing.

 

He stares at paintings.

 

He stares at paintings of green skies and red grass.

He stares at paintings of cliffs crumbling quietly loud.

He stares at paintings that kill the reality of death.

He stares at paintings that scream the beauty of life.

He stares at paintings that reflect silent mannequin rooms.

 

He stares at paintings that stare back at you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

I know the chant can be annoying, but for this, I'm mostly looking at theme. Tell me if it works for you.