The Painting Opposite Pollock’s

A Murder squawked

an Apartheid sign-post horizon,

where light and dark collide

in secret.

It framed a dystopian exhibition

of can’t help myself animatronics,

of scenes of scorching asphalt,

of Kafkaesque pursuit.

Two warbling exhausts

dust greyish murmuration -

Blue and Red flutter and beat

to shrieking sirens.

Fingertips to the passenger seat

(for a brush to paint this phenomenon)

shake greetings with barrels

of ambient muzzle glow!

Flashing nostalgia:

Pulsing of Tulsa.

Eyes-tinted Rose-

wood burns black.

Beguiling lead-antimony

perfected my artwork.

A sgraffito of flayed flesh -

Oh my!

A sight I’ve yearned to articulate!

Vivid blood-red base

brindled with dripped

lynched-blue plight over

Black collateral vanquish.

Acid-Allegories

splash around

the interior canvas -

woven motorised metal.

“I didn’t commit a crime,

I was framed by God!”

Gallery-worthy.

In His image.

by Marcel Bedeau