Today I drew a cat.
Everyone said “Nice pig.”
They recognized it was an animal
Which, progress-wise, I think is big!
Tag Archives: Art
Art
Art.
Art is when your self-expression
Is super meaningful and deep
In a way that nobody else understands.
It doesn’t rhyme
Or look like reality
Or sell in Peoria
(Or anywhere else for that matter).
It has imagery in it
Like “Salty red horse”
Or “Spider fingers”
That evoke people’s minds
But don’t make them think.
Art is for people who feel
Or who have a lot of money
That they need to launder
And also lots of wall space.
Art.
Carrier pigeon with orange sauce.
Filed under Poems
So Ended The Artistic Career Of Coal-Eyed Jack
Once a man who had no legs
And really skinny arms
Made a statue of himself.
He didn’t see the harm,
And so he rolled three balls of snow
And stacked them one by one
Until a rabbit ate his nose
And spoiled all the fun.
Filed under Poems
Flowers for Algernon
Someday in the future
Somebody will share
A painting so perfect
Nothing else can compare,
And most everybody
Will say “Ooh” and “Ahh”
Except for the few
Who insist there’s a flaw.
All other artwork
Before it and after
Won’t evoke the same awe
Or inspire such laughter,
Won’t bring to the eyes
The same sweetness of tears
And from then to the end
There will be the dark years
Where no art seems special
Like the ultimate piece,
So exhibits will dry up
And artists will cease.
New adventures will stagnate
When our needs are all met
So let’s just be happy
That we’re not perfect yet.
Filed under Poems
Modern Art
Harry stood on stage,
Took a deep breath,
And said, “The,” for forty days.
Every day another voice joined
For eleven and a half weeks.
On the forty first day,
Harry stood on stage,
Took another deep breath,
And said, “World,”
And the followers waited a day
Before echoing him.
And so it was that Harry
And the multitude who came after
Sang a round, “The World,” in eighty days.
Filed under Poems
The Elites
Who once was an ideologue
Now bears a predacious heart,
A prerequisite for leadership
In politics and art.
Who once fantasized
Is yoked by sponsors unseen,
Separate from the audience
Who now seem unclean.
Who once dreamed of changing
Now for sameness votes,
Repelling their friends,
Trapped within their own moats.
Who is no longer meek
Now learns how and why
The meek inherit nothing
If the elites never die.
Filed under Poems
Dear People Whose Paintings Hang On The Walls Of Banks And Hotels…
Some people think art
Is how the heart speaks
And I think the heart’s saying
“Dude, your paint bottle leaks.”
Filed under Poems
And With That Hair I’m Destined For National Leadership
If I were a Pokemon
I’d want to be Crabominable
Because no one would enslave me
And fight in a manner intolerable.
Yes, ugliness has benefits
When avoiding death is your aim.
And for you ’90s kids who say its fake:
You should play a more recent game.
Filed under Poems
Celebrating The Freedom To Be Lousy At Stuff
All around me I see boring artwork
I hear songs and and poems I despise,
Read novels with no satisfying endings
And look at them through someone else’s eyes,
Thus what once seemed like a bunch of rubbish
From the perspective of the makers, though they’re dopes,
I know as long as we are free to make this sort of crap
We’re free from those who’d seek to crush our hopes.
So if you feel tired of the daily,
The regular routine has got you down,
Why not draw a purple line on canvas
And sell it to a bank somewhere in town?
Filed under Poems
Le’eonardo De’avinci
Yo, ‘sup homie.
I got da shizzow:
It’s a portrait I did
Of dis half-smilin’ hoe.
It’s all kinda dark
In a beige kinda style
And I figga the critics
Gonna rave for a while.
I got some new model
But wut’s dat bitch’s name?
Moana? Le’isa?
Nothing worthy of fame.
They’ll ask why’d I paint it
And wonder howso.
Too bad I was trippin’
And forgot her brows yo!
#Wurd
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 