IF U C KANDINSKY

The day the arts disappeared-
A fog set in and it never let up.
No more beautiful highlights,
High Contrast opportunities
To sketch or even study-
In post-theft times
The art world became so muddy.
 
No one blamed the computer,
The technology or the pager-
Yet it went without saying
Art needed a savior-
Banished to the abyss- the depths and the void
Cast out to sea, cement bricks at her feet.
 
Admired by the masses, Old Lady Art
Her body of knowledge, proportions divine-
Movie industry that never-came-to-be
Without Photography- the written word was king,
‘Til he too was banished, when it was named sin
 
The written spoken sung, it just couldn’t be!
Dear art had gone missing, -and I couldn’t see!
 
Cast to the devil, -as art to the void
The power she holds- white walls that I loathe,
This city of stone, our home’s not our own.
In a world without art
This poem will be BLANK
Read, “Censored and BLANK.”
 
-All meaning still there
Uninterpretable- the language of a lost civilization
Our lessons learned from Michelangelo- Lost Forever
Ancient Egyptians before and after BLANK!
Moses and his seas- parted so enchantingly BLANK!
The Pyramids and the Gaza Strip and
The Graffiti upon them- BLANK!
 
“These BLANK people are people too!!” I cry out.
BLAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNKK– BLANK! BLANK!!!!!!!!!111!!!11!!!1
 
Waves crashing all around!!
Art waves! The Renaissance! Pop! Dada!
BLANK WAVES! –Oh! They never stop!
Basquiat! Feminism! The World BLANK Center!
Rap Music and the development of The Computer!
People are left with only one question-
NO TIME FOR BLANK BUT EXACTLY WHAT IS
 
The rats remain-
Vermin and vultures;
In our sewers and dumpsters
The trash remains-
Alleys and New York streets
 
Jazz was just a myth-
The Saxophone never came to be
Those stories of the Seraphins-
The book they were writ in
-Never was released.
 
The paintings that depicted them,
Have never been seen-
Why in a world without art,
It’s as if they’d never been.
 
Cézannes in the morning,
Van Goghs in the evening-
The Starry Night, the sea of France-
Ohh to see that Blue Guitarist again!
The waves of the past- I’ll never forget
Old Masters and the AvantGarde-
How I BLANK them all the same!
 
Every day I pass that BLANK wall
And every day I see those BLANK words-
NO TIME FOR ART BUT EXACTLY WHAT IS
Yet everyone reads-
NO TIME FOR BLANK BUT EXACTLY WHAT IS
 
Because the arts have gone missing,
And this poem has been /CUT/
Censored like World War II photographs-
BLANK films, graffiti and smut…

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