Art Speaks Itself

by Buhisan, Anna Marie L.

Lines, soft edges, brushes and canvas
Poured every inch of slaughtered truth
The vivid pallette used to vivid scene
It’s not as hidden unless it’s forbidden

But oh! if it forbids to tell,
A different language nailed
The language of an artist
Everyone could see, if not it’s jailed

In every stroke,
In every smudge
Conveys  cruelty,
Conveys brutality

The layer’s panel hides and unhides
That every ruler’s wish to take
The transparency layer locked or unlocked
That every ruler’s that have the blame

A power to dominate
A persuasion to manipulate
A capability to make dolls
A tragedy that makes everyone dull

They mean a power of owning
Owning news media companies,
Then they call it privilege?
And yes it is

They mean a power of controlling
Controlling economic profit
Controlling society’s perception
On instilled released production

As seen as movie
Listened in radio broadcast
Read in in any media’s post
Followed as society’s standard

Heard the people’s cries
Sought the people’s agonies
Mourned the people’s sorrows
After all people weren’t blind

Intuition speaks
Truth proves it
But only few stand
Most were eaten

Who dares to tell the truth
When it’s a fight for now and death
When it bites career and family
When it strikes our joy and peace

But how long could people pretend?
And be suffocated by power’s control
May it be this case,
The art speaks itself