Rabble Rousing Fool: October 2012

As I look to the sky, in the dead of night,
visualizing the sun,.. that's on the other side,
wondering,... will I'll see it many more times....

As the moon and stars light up the sky,
thin clouds laying over the hills.
I see myself,... lying,... dying,
reaching,... reaching for the un-reachable,
where the prosperous seem to alway build.

Their is a darkness to everything,
one struggles to stay in the light,
it is inevitable,... that I shoot myself,
to bring the attention of the world.

Will the doctors struggle to keep me alive,
or will the grim reaper possibly take me away?
The church,... the means,... my body,...
all wait in silence,....
of the starry night.

Above is the poem I wrote when looking at this particular painting of Vincent van Gogh's. In this painting call the "Starry Starry Night" is a definite premice to this painting he had painted at Staint Remy. While Vincent was looking at the heavy swirling clouds one night as he was painting them in this supposed breezy partially cloudy night sky there in St. Remy, Vincent had a vision. The vision was of what was to come a little later on down this road he traveled on, you know,... the one he asked if it always went up hill. He painted this vision as it was seen by him with these stars and the crescent moon shining through this troubled night sky. The sky itself, when in the artist's mind set, seemed to him as if it is filled with the emotions of himself telling us his story. This story is the exact one that has always been on his mind and inevitably the main reasons and causes of his demise.

Vincent knew as the artist he was that not one would be willing to listen, for when one who knows what others do not, people have tendencies turn into deaf mutes, especially when what is being said make absolutely no sense to them. For being gifted of this unusual knowledge, it does have tendencies for ones mind to move in many different directions, seemingly all at the same time, which does not really help in explaining these things to others. If Vincent would have taken the time to write things down in more of a explaining and meaningful and understanding way of what he was saying, it would probably not have cause others to wonder so much where it may have been coming from. Some would think that an artist such as this, while saying things as such may be gifted rather than only a few short paces from entering an asylum.

Everyone pretty much knows this world we live in is not really fair to the majority. Only a few are in this category of being the lucky ones. Let's say just like ones being born with silver spoons in their mouths. Others through many hours of hard work sometimes do manage to break in or out of these barriers. Vincent tried his damnedest but still managed to fail. Believe it or not, his failures did come to past with a price tag. The decendents of the family members who disliked him are now doing everything in their power to mould him into the way they want him looked at. Believe it or not, these reletives are now the ones who mainly have control of the art market and running it exactly the way Vincent himself was totally against.