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Graffiti heaven is grey wall, spray paint, and a
ladder.
Guerrilla Girls become
guerrilla grannies in time, but
still favor the purples,
greens
and pinks that scream
from walls around the old
guard
arts. Masters
of all are still
superior to none, we tell them
again and again, but do they heed
our
translations of God’s voice
or of Nature’s
behaviors?
We work inside government
by day, and then practice
our arts outdoors at night.
We shall die in service
in graffiti heaven, stepping
out with our ladder and paint.
My blog poems are rough drafts.
Please respect my copyright.
If you quote, credit this page.
© 2020 Susan L. Chast
© 2020 Susan L. Chast
"Guerrilla Girls become guerrilla grannies" Such a true line and I love the voice of expression this represents. Those that give of themselves always do. This is both inspiring and wonderful Susan. So glad you joined us this week. Be safe my friend.
ReplyDeleteI love the guerilla grannies.......I wrote about a raging granny too, but she was so pissed off I didnt post it. Smiles. We are a subversive lot, trying to change government from the inside by day, writing our frustration at its immobility by night.
ReplyDeleteGuerillas to Grannies! Love it.
ReplyDelete