Art is strict;
It is hands and pens finding their purpose.
It is brushes and pieces dancing in synchrony.
You have to find the rhyme, you have to find the rhythm.
Put your clothes off and strike that pose.
Art is structure;
Inspiration, melancholy, ABAB.
It’s a fine conversation between you and me.
All those terms there was never an use for
lyrical poem here, just use it more.
Art is suffocating;
Should be freeing, however, it is not.
Should be seen, but writer wants to hide;
Painter wants to forget about the climb;
Artisan to forget about his knots.
Art is searching;
Looking into papers for any meaning.
Drawing your own reality into a canvas.
Antagonizing the rules of reality.
Creating the world we were all dreaming,
with bright colorful lights that enchant us,
but we never find the answer, sadly.
Art is seeing,
Art is swimming,
Art is shield,
Art is sword.
Art is hearing your words
on a Sunday afternoon.