Thursday, June 6, 2013

Contemporary Crap Museum



Yet how would you fare if I told you how I really felt
As I pasted feather upon evasion upon feather
And if I told you, boy-wonder of the art world
That what you work for means nothing
When it is called art to string together empty words
And beat a drum, naked
And all of the bared bodies from which I’ve averted my gaze
How can I tell you everything here is stupid?
When you look so hopeful in the face of this hopelessness
I could probably light this place on fire
And have more impact for Truth and Beauty
Than this whole museum
Instead I mumble half statements
And hot glue glass pebbles to cardboard
The fun of playing at the craft table
Is almost worth my four dollars, but
I regret the one I donated