<WRAP right>Index to pages</WRAP>
<WRAP > I once met an artist from the Orang Asli of Malaya who have been forced onto small reservations by the invading Melayu people. His angry work told a sad story which was lost on his potential customers. </WRAP>
<WRAP >What do I know of what you say. I live my life from day to day. The strangers come and slash and burn I ache to complain — but must “wait my turn”.</WRAP> <WRAP >Then comes this artist to paint my life, But really I want him to just paint my wife. I smile with respect He picks up his brush</WRAP>
<WRAP >The artists sees more, sees the torment and pain Paints it out clearly again and again Tells the world the bleak story of histories gory, of wrecked angular lives through rectangular frames; of flashing curved knives slicing homes without names.</WRAP> <WRAP >The world needs to know And I know I can show. My pictures are clear And are deeply sincere</WRAP> <WRAP >And you’d better believe what you’re seeing!!</WRAP>
<WRAP >Its nice there’s so much red. It’ll go with the wall in the hall. “What’s that you said?” There’s a message and all?</WRAP> <WRAP >O, Yes, A message. Well the faces are nice The style is intriguing</WRAP> <WRAP >Look at the brushwork It’s all so appealing</WRAP> <WRAP >You know what, It’s so avant-garde We’ll give it its place — Outside in-the yard.</WRAP>
Authored by: writeradmin; Last updated: 2021-03-24T07:35:08(UTC)