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The last painting of
Vincent Van Gogh. A Vincent to go By M.D. Ward You can't hear the flowers cry. Vincent did
and put a bullet thru his brain. there are those who go under the world
and those that sit on crystal mountain tops. I remain in the middle
in limbo with vultures chewing on my liver. Would that they pluck out my
eyes. I am a chain clinging to a rock in space. It is wisdom to
remain still and be eaten alive piece after piece as all things are devoured
in the maw of time. Sunflowers sucked dry by the orange sun droop and die. If you had Vincent's ear you could hear them cry. Sliced down
by the beast in the black forest of life. And the sparrows land
and hop like tiny toys as an old man tosses manna and the sky breaks down in
tears. He didn’t have to kill himself. But the God's were hungry for beauty. And the God's never wait. M |
