Banksy Knows God’s Graffiti

It looks like graffiti

Alongside corridors built on the dignity of tedium

Shards of paint growing into bubbles and furious rainbows

A background of color like iridescent blood

Weeds turned to flame on the sides of boxcars

Forgotten buildings left for the squatter’s chess game

Abandoned life still hunts and hopes

God in the street flagging down new installations

The spray released in primal spurts

Coloring the souls of Clandestine highways

The whole sick crew cuts links out of rusted fences

Breaking and entering self constructed prisons

Time  digs a trench

Unsullied truth lends an open ear

Laws fall away

Shed in the darkness

Codes branded on the cowhide of society’s detritus

Waiting to be uncovered and illuminated

When the city awakens inhabitants are unconscious

A new blueprint bright as the sun

Waits to be seen and understood

No one is ready yet

Fear climbs the fire escape of the heart

Blustering foolish demigods tarnish dreams

Waiting in lost parlors where truth is born

Ash swirls at dusk

Covering the outlines

Blurring the facades

Soon this renegade will be known

Yet the man is not the center of why we search

No one knows why he hides his open exposures

Smoke blooms and filters out of iron grates

Manholes hide subterranean messages

Coursing in underground arteries

Pumping towards the heart of truth

Illusions of certitude

Evolve into bombastic falsehoods

Advertising lies

Addictions to ego constructs

Quiet desperados sinking into soul-killing postures

Swimming from disappointment

Towards fear

The Brickface lashes back now

With colors of hidden violence

Alive with distant explosions

Fighting for a voice

Transforming back into existence

Above the legions of rotting food

Stagnant pools of underground water

Hackneyed ideas disappear

Incongruous truths shining a beacon on hypocrisy