Black Canvas - Gory Blister

A blank canvas is the widest place

Where the whole art is standing still

The sky — to give shape to a masterpiece

Is full — I need the artist’s mystic will

Of flaming darkness

To make choices, my sacred toil

To create life, colours, greatness

To reveal riches, our decaying spoil

My artwork were to be the universe

My artwork were to be this twisted universe

To draw life, the most supreme

All wrong, a blind paint stream

No life, in a black canvas

There is no chance to pray and cleanse

The work of art now lives in dark

Dying planets and black blood

Created by a failing God

Here life is to float

In a gout of black

Guessing it is the universe

Mankind — to make the brush a fecund place —

Was born — to let flow the masterpiece —

Of black — the whole art keeps standing still

To perish in darkness

To make choices, my sacred toil

To create life, colours, greatness

To reveal riches, our decaying spoil

To draw life, the most supreme

I need the perfect stroke

But the brush streamed spurts of black

And the spell broke

There will be no life in a black canvas