Color prints, approximately 11″x17″, signed, suitable for framing $35 (mounted on foam core, shrinkwrapped, ready to hang $45)
I DON’T EARN ANY MONEY MAKING AN IMAGE EACH DAY FOR COMMONDREAMS.ORG. I RELY ON OCCASIONAL SALES OF ARTWORK TO MY LOYAL FANS TO KEEP ME GOING.
When you buy 3 prints, I’ll send a fourth one to your Republican Uncle for free.
Original acrylic paintings and drawings ( where work has not been altered in photoshop) starting at $150+
Shipping in USA $5 ($2 for each additional one)
International shipping $15 ($5 for each additional)
mayersnatasha@gmail.com
538 Townhouse Rd.
Whitefield, Maine. 04353
Ms Mayer, first, thank you. Soon as I can, I’ll put some of your art on my music room walls. What you see gets my music and words moving. Like this:
See What You’re Made Of
Rick Hart
So how you going to leave your sweet Mama Earth,
lover of the sun, child of rain and dirt?
She feeds you life.
You poison her breast
and eat while you watch her die away.
Now, if you can’t taste the poison, what are you made of?
Why you take it all, even what little is left,
then you grab your gun and look down your nose at theft?
How ’bout your choices out on the street,
yeah, while they watch you drive away?
When you find out later what you’ve got,
see what you’re made of.
Wall to wall, we’re locked in the human race.
So many colors locked into one face.
Remember, when you’re hungry for hatred and blood,
when you kill a man, you brother dies first.
If you think you’re alive when it’s over,
see what you’re made of.
Your brother, your sister, and your child.
So you’re selling justice hand over fist.
You know she won’t be one with you until she’s kissed.
How many innocent are you taking down
while you plead that you’re only fighting crime?
Hey. You missed a bloodstain.
You can see what you’re made of.
You can die in your money while scavengers stake their claim.
You can die in the arms of love without a name.
How ‘bout the child who’s looking at you?
If you turn away, is he just like you?
Turn around.
See what you’re made of.
You want me to think.
You want me to think like you.
Mister, here’s a headline – this is my home, too.
It’s falling apart. Enough has been done.
Turn around. Open your hand.
Think it’s time to see what else you’re made of.
(c) (p) 2000 Rick Hart