Friday, October 3, 2008

A Starving Artist Striving

Starving artist
With a pen piercing his wrist
The pain of the sacrifices
He has made to this life as an artist
Poet or poetess
He’s starving to exist
Everybody knows most features at shows
Are not the best artists but the ones the host & or hostess know best
Those getting paid the large paper dollars aren’t the best artists either
We are forgotten in the world’s focus of who is the best artist
The real artist is poor and hopeless
Only lives for his creative bliss
So insane and ahead of his time the world assumed he was out of his mind
He would straight up panhandle and sleep on subways and streets
He lives off of words and left over break beats
He’s lonely and too strange to converse with
His fashion can be questionable while
his family is surprised he lacks the proper paper cash obsession
Call him a failure cause his mind is filled with words and music instead of dollar signs
The starving artist invents the mainstream
Then is killed before he can get credit
Cash is used only for housing body fuels and artistic tools
His art is not a labor - it’s really all he can do
He lacks skills and abilities to cope in society
The world understands physical ails but rarely pays attention to mental disabilities
Or other kinds of abnormalities
Our society is based on norms and similarities
The starving artist in most of us is killed very early
By mind control of commercial TV that teaches its citizens to think similarly
those who don’t watch are immediately deemed crazy & looked at suspiciously
The starving artist doesn’t watch TV
Mainly to keep his mind free
The starving artist lives off ingesting creativity
The starving artist survives through his ability to create


  1. I was deeply touched with your poem. You know how to show the world the true meaning of talents. Thank you for sharing this beautiful and honest poem with me.

  2. Marvellous poem, Dub. We write because it's all we can do: well said.
    I wonder whether the starving is necessary to the art. When things are bright and plentiful, I don't feel the urge to write, just stay in the moment.
    All the best,

  3. Brilliantly evocative, Dub. Very well expressed.
    In the most positive way possible, I feel as though I've just been reading about myself. Despite the feelings of isolation and other difficulties described, I find this a very reassuring read.


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