Artists And The Intelligentsia
/The process of art and artist's promenade have always been difficult to define regardless of perspective.
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Clouds of mystery veil beatified innocents
Sliding on a winding suppressed detour
Stacked with rocks and littered glass
Our apprentices study the boundaries
And decide to investigate beyond the threshold
Initiate a journey to investigate
This indefinable moment
To illuminate and pursue
The passion and work of art
On the meandering path
They behold billboards of distraction
Obstructions in flashing lights and jingles
They hear the fortunate privileged
Ignite the fuse of commercials
Advertising the business of technique
To the sponge of masses
But through the destiny of
Internal aesthetic justice
A wondrous phenomenon of disruption
Explodes unexpectedly
And thunders in recognition
By nomads lost in the wilderness
And the mayhem of world
They are conducted
By an artist’s instrument
To the gods of harmony
And the explanation of humankind
The iconic slumbering artists of history
Decay prominently in Pere-Lachaise
Jangle with the breathing collective leftovers
Subsist around mediocrity and sighs
Outcast
Peculiar
And marginalized
The craft is camouflaged by the intentionally bewildered
Senseless to the possibilities of achievement
And the thunderous truths of the invisible
As they disintegrate and withdraw to obscurity
Exalting the stars with their answers
The medium and the
Touchstones of civilization
Were defined through history
As an artist’s production
That begets the manifestation of us
These chosen few
These artists
Exploring the
Challenging corridors of consciousness
Pursue the natural continual reflection
And expression of what it is to be human
Hear the melodies of spirit
Recognize delight and fury
In the blending of notes
Tints of color
And the composition of words
In this concordant and disharmonious world
The intelligentsia
Huddle and execute smug impersonations
Categorize au courant dilettantes
To the innocent and novitiate
Who were not apprised of violence
And the camera is coerced in sorrow
And pans to Avenue Carette in Pere Lachaise
Where the lips of Oscar Wilde
Contort even tighter
By Giulio Magrini
From: United States
Facebook URL: https://www.facebook.com/Giulio27/