Subject	Art
DateCreated	2/24/2007 8:52:00 PM
PostedDate	2/24/2007 8:37:00 PM
Body	Like a flash of light a flick of the wrist the hands move to position. the fingers to the keys well worn and out of tune but hands can't tell and mind can't care eyes are closed and ears are useless (for they can barely tell that age brings to the keys a not so subtle difference) the melody comes sad and sweet and just the same it's not an art form, it's a game the mind plays tricks and makes you think it's something brilliant brilliant repition plays this game the one last song the mind can play so it is art, as one might say? or memory so what then is a drawing but a mess on paper? and what is paper but a piece of tree? it's all been done the same before the style was the same before the movement and the mindset all the same before and every limb comes out the same it isn't art it's just a game and writing is a jumbled mess of words and thoughts set in a line pulled from a mess of other words the brain can find it's memory that makes a piece one of a kind and rhymes that nag and beg and when are last accepted bring to ruin everything you thought was true for rhymes are like a solid direction that everyone that once has sense would soon abandon for the pressures of modern art and  society but my mind works from memory and memory tells me that i and an e are so sweetly neatly meant to be so I follow my one true calling my one true downfall so watch me as I make my art I waste my time it's all the same, it's art it's mine. and memory. --- definately not as good as the first one, but I lost that one so I will have to make due with this copy. To tell you the truth I could only remember the first two lines.