Memories fill these silent halls,
of the time of hate.
Memories painted on the walls,
before it was too late.
When memory fades with time,
blended into gray.
Like poetry without its rhyme,
greets a cloudy day.
The paint of youth is sharp and clear,
shows no fear of message.
The paint of youth is held so dear,
a cornucopia of its passage.
Who would want to desecrate,
these priceless memories fair?
Who would want to fade to white,
these vivid works so rare?
Only those without any vision,
blinded by their power.
Who seek to shackle every wisdom,
in their brief, little hour.
Whitewashing the past,
and revising history.
To curry favor,
and fulfill a personal destiny.
We must rise up against this tyranny,
and stop the desecration.
For freedom demands free will,
intellect without persecution.
Until this message is understood,
the University will not be free.
But only a puppet to the system,
corporate America has come to be.
Mothers of Father and Son
A Mural by Harvey Johnson
Read War's End, the Novel
Copyright 2010 © Ronald W. Hull
This mural and another,
titled Han Writin on de Wall (1969)
was described as, "not art,"
and was summarily painted over on 9/4/10,
the Labor Day Holiday, so that
faculty and students wouldn't see.
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