Aphorism #63

“Our art is an art that is dazzled by truth: the light shed on
The rapidly fleeing grimace is true—nothing else is.”

Is the content, by which I form
Bound in chains of entity?
Yet and how many times are we forced
To fake it
What you say matters & how you say it matters more
More often now are we force-fed farce while sitting
On our laurels
This should give us license to scream
FUCK YOU from the highest mountain!

Go! break down these walls
The sleeping giant must awaken and
Lurch forth with impunity
As the curtains are torn down around me
I see melting figures
Beleaguered smiles
They don't represent me

All these words will be ripped from the page
When a true gale comes to pass
With these words forsaken
Write them anew with crippled hands
The images you thought you knew and loved will fade
Faster than they came

Told records cease to exist
They fade; constrict, consumed

Write it down in ink
Purpose; priority
Cursive your heart away

Finding the right words in works
With no words at all

As sovereign dawn approaches
Breathe deep and pause
Are you listening?
And will you sing back the words?

“Our art is an art that is dazzled by truth: the light shed on
The rapidly fleeing grimace is true—nothing else is.”