Black Fill

gold brooch for his lapel
an ornament to his gift
because they’d rather see him in a jail cell
mould and roaches in his midst

they insist works by his kind are insipid
and one cannot set pace
or change the face… unless they dictate taste
which of course is always the task and force of establishments

so even if one innovates
and leads an artistic movement
the fact still remains
and will likely in any case

since one’s pigment does not reflect or match
standard associations deemed best
either for or of the language in use
hence also the power of thought represented in or by it

so what is depth or meaning
what is fact or fiction
and when destiny is predetermined
what is genesis or a beginning
if not measured against a limit or an ending?


© Heath Muchena, 2016

6 Comments on “Black Fill”

  1. In order for there to be a beginning, something else has to end- or at least sprout a branch, willingly.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I of July says:

    True indeed 🙂


  3. vivachange77 says:

    This is a weight humanity bears as long as some falsely think they have the right to name destiny. Your poem speaks truth to ultimate power.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I of July says:

    You’ve elaborated on the subject so succinctly. Thank you


  5. vivachange77 says:

    You’re welcome. Thanks.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. I of July says:

    You’re the best 🙂 enjoy your weekend


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