A Statue Speaks
The morning takes it’s first breath of daylight
Exhaling the sunrise that fills the sky with colored
Chirping often mistaken as singing by winged troubadours.
disrupts the gloaming’s silence
Shrill announcement of their agendas prior to flight.
I stand in bronzed stillness
Aware of the onslaught about to befall me
A daily routine of humiliation.
Statues are City scarecrows
Just as ineffective as their country counterparts
Pigeons are first to perch on my structure.
Cooing laughter while they shit on my oxidized green copper surface.
Their feces leaving white spots about my body
As though I was infected with Vitiligo
These rats without wings are indigent of respect
I’m a creation of spirituality for Christ’s sake
a pious image of an Arc Angel
Crows and Magpies swoop in like gang members
commandeering territory the Pigeons
vacate in a cowardly fashion
They squawk in triumph and sharpen
their beaks on my alloyed body,
committing the same sacrilege as the prior visitors
Milky excrement drips into crevices
Sliding downward scoring long white lines
An expression of their contempt
a display of discourteous actions without apologies.
The Bible contains many verses and references
pertaining to their reverence.
“Look to the air and the birds
Your heavenly father feeds them.”
But God like an undisciplined child
takes no responsibility
for cleaning up after their mess
He’s occupied creating Divine catastrophes
that doesn’t leave dirt under his fingernails.
The day is evicted by the Sun’s stealth exit
a grey landscape surrenders to the night.
Another vandal with equal disregard for public art
employs a method of deviant behavior
in contrast to the winged assailants.
They’re referred to as “taggers”
The weapon they holster is a can of spray paint.
scribbling nonsense and irrelevant messages
containing misspelled words,
profanities out of context
grammar of an illiterate
Their desecration is accompanied by the hissing of the spray can
I’m transformed into a marquee
Displaying their stupidity in color.
Their graffiti leaves a scar difficult to erase
I’m painted in areas that cause me to be embarrassed
Enter the drunks, addicts, thieves,
homeless and the mentally deranged
Each group staging a unique performance.
some voicing prayer like a child asking Santa for presents,
believing that their requests will actually be answered.
Assuming I’ve got a direct connection to God’s ear.
Others curse, swear and scream at me with contempt
suspecting that I am the cause of their misfortune.
As if had a hand in their bad luck and demise
They choose me to be the victim of their displaced aggression
I am the one to blame.
They reward me with piss and vomit.
Breaking bottles against my metal frame.
Under the cover of foliage behind me.
Lovers moan with pleasure from engaging in sex.
They scream with delight
Young voices expressing orgasmic sensations
Hookers provide discounts for acts of oral gratification.
my stature keeps them hidden and undetected.
I’m sentenced to constant exposure to the forces of nature.
No matter the weather I stand vigilant braving the elements,
being at the mercy of each season’s unpredictable climate
Assaulted without relief never provided with shelter
Against the brutal atmospheric conditions.
If in the near future you pass an anchored figurine.
Take a moment to notice it’s grandeur,
admire the curves, the expression, the attention to detail
And comment on the creativity of the artist
Now being aware of a statue’s stiff existence.
Your appreciation will give purpose to it’s frozen pose.
The Beatnik Cowboy 