Auntie Culture, photo reportage

Auntie Culture does not like me.
I work in arts, paint pictures, write poems and have no idea why she's against me.
We've never had a sex together. I suspect she has no more hope!

by Wis - Wieslaw Sadurski

On which side of the fence do you stand,
living behind bars?

On the one side - flowers, on the other the money.

With the passage of time - barbed wire
is eventually engulfed by the plants with the careful knowledge
that life is soft and merciless in the face of steel and weaponry.

With the passage of time,
every stair seems to hold its own secret, and climbs to nowhere.

I've been there, I know. Nowhere happens to exists, where aims are no more.
Nowhere is unknown to you, whilst you are in the grip of despair.

Watchtower,
a dummy remnant of the Berlin Wall, seems funny with the passage of time.
For many years such a monster faced my windows, and I shivered in disgust, feeling the barrel of a gun was wandering across my back, while I was painting.
The boys up in the tower were busy playing their dirty games.

The light is always present, whether the candle, or in the hallway.
No stars are visible to the billions of people in cities.

The Auntie Culture is jealous. She gives to people rich lights of the transient kind, taking away the starlight.

Therefore, in my oil paintings I have painted the stars.
If not visible in the sky, then please, but in my studio!

This girl is standing on the street corner, because she's good-hearted.
Some breads, cheese, salad, caviar on her plate.
Perhaps there is a hungry one somewhere in the night, whom she could feed?
She's waiting in vane.
Boy shouts in her face: - Get gone with your caviar when you've no Champagne!

Chimney Miracle