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It’s The Vicodin Talking December 18, 2007

Posted by vsap in Poetry, Uncategorized.

The meaningful artist’s life is one of pain,

so I hear of African prisons, Islamic oppression,

racial and ethnic indignities suffered and endured

by one writer, painter, or sculptor after another.

Days are long and the strife and challenge is palpable,

a layer cake of injustice, indentured servitude, and

heinous physical abuse, in torrents and in more subtle,

ingenious ways too subversive for adequate description.

All of these things, and more, bring the artist closer

to his art, closer to his ideal, purer craft, in the eyes of

critics and the odd observer with particular political or financial

influence, enough at least to move a career from the back burner.

But, would these long suffering artists have produced

the kind and quality of work, preserved for future generations,

without the pain, without the constant struggle?

For those of us who toil in the field of mediocrity, unseen

by peers, unmentioned by pundits and the wise, I suppose

it’s the Vicodin talking.



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