Adam, Benny and Crank

Adam, Benny and Crank

This is a painting of Adam and his henchmen on their way to visit Mayor Dunlap. There is an advertisement boasting Gnashing’s most celebrated and beautiful actress on the doorway, but Crank and Benny insist it is not Evelynn.

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The Lying ‘Artists’


Weights are heavy, eyes are dim, vision blurs, dreams run thin.

Heavy losses too much to carry, sick of seeing social staring –

At those who like to prance around, look at me, this act I’ve found.

There are few artist out today, the few that are get shunned away.

Instead we look to those untrue, instead we honor the false that do.

How my heart bleeds for the artist, how much pain can one man harness.

What have seekers still got left? What trophy gives to noble quest?

When famous faces like to sing, when all good singers go unseen.

When true labor is ignored, when self glory becomes the norm.

Don’t confuse the two I swear, they are not close the art’s not shared.

If I tell you look at me, say to you I am something,

Run around and destroy others, seek to sin and get much coverage.

I am not an artist see, I am just a man who thieves.

But if I spend my time at work, if my art to your heart flirts,

If I can make you smile, if you hope just for a while,

If you look at what I share, if the artist really cares,

Those who look will not see him, those who look will not grow dim.

You will feel just as I feel, you will know the truth is real.

I can’t take this too much longer, I am so weak from goodness squandered.

Today the tables are flipped around,

Where famous faces claim profound,

They tell you how much great they do,

I hope you don’t believe them too.

Few out there are true to thee,

Few out there who make it big.

So please don’t confuse any longer,

Please don’t think the best is honored.

When your talent goes unnoticed,

When good work don’t get you nowhere,

Remember the crowds are all misjudging,

The greatest artist is always struggling.

– Thomas M. Watt

True Source of Art

A noun, a verb, a consolate of things,

an addage of a sentence is the poison of all things.

No it doesn’t matter, no it isn’t you, the moment you jot down the thing someone else said for you to do.

Writing is an art, a word is just the start, the maker of good writing is more understood than taught.

For it is a wrong, a wrong is it to me, the second you instruct someone to write submissive things.

Along with misconceptions, along with wrong directions, exist the man who tells us such things that breed discretion.

The key to it is here, the key to is you see, is never to expect to show the intelligence of me. You want to be good, you want to be the best, you must exist underneath the texts of what you send.

For the object belongs to you, the art is displayed to me, the only job I have for prose is to bring the sight to see. For before it is born, before all art is made, it exist somewhere in the ethosphere for humble souls to take.

It is our job to see it, our job to make it known. It is a gift from up above whose origin is un-shown. He is the giver of words, the gifter of all things, He is the one who shows us to the truthfulness of needs.

A word is not a word, a rhyme is not a rhyme, the secret to all art may be the opposite of what you find. For the teachers they are dull, the rhymers do not speak, the secret to the task at hand is to show what you can see.

Anything more is foolish, anything more is dull, anything less is atrophy of the bringer of the gold. Do not be misled, do not be fooled by me, the greatest of the art at hand belongs to those who see.

– Thomas M. Watt