"The Graffiti Artist"
be it a portrait or sketch, it wasnt hard to get his mother to boast
at breakfast, he was the type to literally paint his butter on toast
yet eventually the artist in him became a mid-summers day ghost
‘n sadly before he met his callin, his inner-youngster met growth
but he knew he still had it all! in a life, some shutters dont close
for he had a skill and a wall, it was time that he brush up on both
the naked wall called to him, in an instant, he’d jot a work plan
and after years of hearing the word CAN’T, he got his first can
he started at night…but embarked with a bright spark in his eye
that somehow allowed him to harness the light darkness denied
it was rationalization vs. his artist inside... armed with his pride
his brush offered a stroke of genius with the smartest of strides
‘God damn my hearts a bad guide!’ the kid scoffed with a smirk
cuz he finally followed the thing, and ended up lost in his work
he swiftly bathed the wall with paint, he smothered it with haste
‘n graciously gave it every shade, including the color in his face
it absorbed each drop like soil plains that been floodless fo years
he redefined the 3 primary colors…with blood, sweat, and tears
he fought thru the strife, paintin a name he thought up that night
wit that he didnt just personify the wall, he also brought it to life
tho his childhood curse was uplifted wit the word he had written
he wasnt content, with this person’s ambition it hurt to be driven
cuz he had perfect precision that could rival a surgeon’s incision
but the worst indecision when it came to his version of finished
yet people saw the worth he had given to the earth that we live in
nothin as influential emerged from a vision since birth of religion
it’d be a poster to me, but some bitched “its all over the street!”
kid plugged into his creative outlet ‘n shocked both the extremes
pussy politicians would push for prison…probably 20 years flat
to penalize a picture perfect paintin the public paused to peer at?
‘its pollution!’ parlor moms pose arguments, just to harp ‘n mock
‘n then pitch their partially-smoked parliaments in the parkin-lot
he aint purposely persuade packs of people to the particular game
they just found a wall, ‘n like an alliteration, all started the same
pummeled with persecution…the painters were going thru a test
they were in their right mind, but most people only use their left
so everything the artists posted was attacked ‘n called into focus
whats poetic justice? before the graffiti the walls went unnoticed
media told the masses: its peer pressure parents, scold their asses
they’d follow him off a bridge, the day he starts taggin overpasses
how trend setting was he? some people were swept off their feet!
he didnt just paint the town red… he painted it ready to read
cuz dammit it wasnt damage! why’d anyone brand him a bandit?
he could manage to see an artistic side on the back of a canvass
he cant even admit he did this, gets dismissed like sun-shines are
making a painting he cant claim, like a gift with an unsigned card
to this day hes a name that isnt reppin a face, but u bet its okay
…its easier to see someone’s soul without their flesh in the way
so the poet in him’ll keep going forever, and hopes eternities late
even though his intellectual property doesnt have a security gate
this story’s not false… but i can easily explain how i planned it
rap boards were the wall, i was the he, 'n the name was dynamix
vet to sensation, i wrote in present tense durin my text elevation
so my every piece would be an easy read for the next generation
my shit’ll live- in the future read one or two spits, it’ll prove this
cuz behind the new shit theres always a blue print on how to do it
someday a cat’ll say my ideas are old…he wasnt there at the start
‘n if he went backwards, what he calls an artifact was in fact a art
some tried to copy my paintings, i wont say vengeance is sweet
but the most important prints they traced, were left with my feet
we’re all graffiti artists! wit a made-up name to decoy a real sense
and with a creativity that’s priceless to the point you feel spent
i’ll be gone by day break, if im remembered i got ya’ll to thank
the name was dynamix,
…will it paint a picture or will you draw a blank?