Vincent Van Gogh is remembered
As much or more for bouts of madness
As than of his art, vision, or paintings
He is seen has having demonstrated folly
Of a fallen artists, without a perceived sanity
He'd seen his world in colors and forms, unseen
The world didn't feel his enlightened love
He saw the sunlight and considered it divinity
If he was broken, he was also highly gifted
If his life was sadness, he was also the chosen
Did not deserve his gifts, or his innocence
Modern minds did not earn his masterworks
But still you hear people say he was insane, mad
One who lived and acted without lucidity
But they? As sane as they are
Do they presume to know what is good
They pursue nothingness and ignorance
Pursuing material goods, like they are divinity
Emptied of humanity, they prefer the dirt over gold
They prefer vulgarity over the voice of angels
They prefer a pornographic modernity
Rather than view art from the eye of God
We've been cursed over time by modern minds
In every land they exist to tell us to not believe
Cold facts and statistics and logic are fine
But they do not devalue a view of life
That will overcome our greatest failings
That will restore this planet or find a new home
Over and again, they lead us to violence, vapidity
They attack never ending until the genius is dead
And even then, perhaps, still never ending
