The Grips of Eternal Slumber
The strokes of a genius preserved five hundred years, now in triplex glass
With graceful glides of a ballet dancer he brushed her in a complex chasse
Respects mass on the leading edge of an artistic pass where color is king
Altruistic blasts of pigments on pointed bristles blow whistles on evil things
Upheaval sings in a violet tone as violence atones for the servants of thrones
Copied & cloned unspoken truths conjured in cold like the servant of bones
Observant of zones within the image in code Da Vinci 's serving unknowns
Unnerving encryption like Egyptian depictions painting a puzzle for show
Peddling cluttered puddles of color on pale backgrounds nuzzled in dough
Guzzle the glow of the nectar that drips from the brushed tips he's gripped
Rushed whips hush lips but this painter speaks loudly in oils he's dripped
The spoils of which will remain eternal in pic's and lucid images flick'd
Translucent as script inscribed on parchment then lit by damages kick'd
thru the uprights of mans scrimmage for wit & battle for kicks with no goal
Ignore the subject to explore complex contents of the treasures in stow
No measure in gold could account for the tales foretold by The Mona Lisa
She tells of fiery roads to hell in her details poised like the Mother Teresa
Expressionless she expresses dark conflicts & war waged deep in the soul
Wicked specters exposed in the swirls of old dabbed off the palette in bold
Behold the secret crossing of man over the bridge linking dreams to reality
Brutality fueled by embers of sinners venting up thru floorboards in sanity
Humanity's vexed, her small arms are at rest & our arms are forever in test
Back turned on a wasteland of pure regret darkened in hue to convey it best
Portrayed by the best impressionist,
...the Renaissance gave birth to more than mere perfectionists
Deceptiveness in terms of painted messages,
...encoded by a true confessionalists saturated in burden and guilt
Unlike pouring bur bon 'til tilt,
...this intoxicant could never be spilt on the grounds of a world we built
...The reveling winds of an ancient awareness prepared this paint by numbers
Tainted pictures in Da Vinci code awoke me from 'The Grips of Eternal Slumber'...
If a picture paints a thousand words,
...then a thousand nerds should be called to attention
to test comprehension of the written words,
...I have left you, here in this hand written ascension
"Forever moving upwards by shaking the grips of eternal slumber"
By: Bounce