Then There’s Art
The world surrounding is scholastic
Interested in arithmetic, fiddling with discovered science
Expressing the expanding universe, its novae and nebulae
And then there’s Art
Halls are draped in ivy and pomp
As these halls drip in Pollack and paint
And a cool sense of disparage or distance
Keeps the artist caged in self-wrought iron
Freely they break out, into the tangible
When it suits to blend or rewards to reunite
Though it’s mostly a recharging of creativity
As he parsimoniously puffs on his filtered fate
There is an effort being made
To be different of dress or style or wit
As if recognition is born of obscurity and eccentricity
As if this is Art defined
We live to track, clock, organize
Scratching out, crossing out, checking off
Our world is boxed, packaged, and standardized
And then there’s Art
