Something To Say

A bunch of paintings are hung up above my head.

Art being ‘displayed’.

I study them,

And I wonder,

If the artist was just painting to paint?

Or, if they had something to say?

Looking at the art, I feel as if he or she weren't trying to say anything, 

But, they simply wanted to paint a river. 

And,

I don’t like it.

I don’t respect it. 

Which pretty ironic,

Because,

The only reason why I looked around at the art,

Was because I didn’t have anything to say . . . 

“You're telling me that the river can’t speak? . . . Bullshit! There’s a thousand stories in that water,” I turn to the painting and say. 

It falls off of the wall and hits me in the head. 

It says, “What the hell are you trying to say? Who are you to judge us? Look at all of these shitty poems when you were just typing just to type!!”

I gather my things and leave that stuffy coffee shop with its snobby art. Who wants to be judged so harshly by a stranger? Not me.

-CH 9/23/25