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
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.