Another poem that I wrote during my spare time, about a great artist, Van Gough.

Van Gough Poem

In the end it’s the picture or it’s me

There are a million negative voices in my head

Look at the wicker chair will you

The chair itself is schizophrenic

I intend to win something with this picture

I wish I had a heater

I need a sip of metho

God I’m starving

Those crows are as big as bulldozers

“Easel! What are you looking at?”

There are my pencils over there maybe I’ll draw it first

That stupid lamp is mocking me again

 “Jean-Pierre that is quite enough out of you!”

You know Madeline you make a good draw

Thank you for that leg of shoe

I wish I had dark green so then I could mix it with isolation

I’m in envy of you Mirka the calendar girl

I think this may be my last picture before the crunch comes

“What’s the matter with you Polly?”

“Do you think that stupid birds can paint better then me?”

There goes that beeping noise again

And the crazy colours are coming back too

That pink mouse has come crawling back

“Kill it, kill it” I hear in my head

That manic-depressive mouse just doesn’t want to be squished

No, no Jean-Pierre gone, gone like all my friends

I rub my head in disbelief

I feel blood,

Did I do that did I cut it off? I can’t remember

That dash of paint looks really good

All the colours are coming together nicely

I feel like I’m floating on air

What is that package coming through my door?

Good lord I’ve won the lottery!

Luck has gone my way

I know! Ill buy a new life!

“Foo, Foo” I hear

It’s only a prank

I’m feeling worse now

I get out my sharp mate Umberto

“No!” I have to get through this first

My women’s coming soon

I’ll cut my hair and my beard too!

Oh no I’m in a mess now

 A couple of dashes of black finishes my pipe

It’s starting to look good now

But my women’s not here yet

She should have been here ages ago

I bet she’s gone to someone else

That would be like her

It feels like crunch time now

I better make it quick

It’s now or never

I pick up Umberto

And take a swing at my chest,

Darkness

Everything’s gone now

Except my paintings

I hope someone buys them soon.

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