(or Temporary Psychosis of Thought)
I have this belief, the greatest madness
of all my madnesses to some.
The belief?
That art is dead. Not
dying, dead. That what
remains is nothing
but the methodic slaughter
of its last vestiges.
Writing, painting.
and glassing - of the stained kind -
a list doubling in length
with each passing second.
The bit still living
falling to three categories;
ancient hold-outs grained
too deep in memories easy to wipe,
the homogenized flavors
purchased from harlequin
and late-night televisions -
and those precious few
too mad
to capitulate
to a society
willing -
barely -
to tolerate the perpetrators
until their passing
and eventual forgetting.
Art - dead,
not yet forgot. In this alone
lies its salvation; more urgent,
our own. To remember
is one art, and in the remembering
of art we might bleed
life to art once more.
Dead? "No!
You are mad!" I hear
you say - and I reply
"name the last
truly
avant-garde
music you regularly
heard in the average spaces
between the sounds? The last
opera or symphony
you attended? The last
poem
you memorized? Not you
who are the extra-ordinaire
few, but the average. ...and I
have not begun to even begin
the retorting of your retorts!"
Art is perception, losing perception
slays the one thing still breathing
life
to the corpse of humanity.
Your speech,
your living
and your loving,
your making
dinner
and your cleaning
toilets - just some
of a thousand expressions of
art, and all the arts
within you never considered
art.
To revitalize
what we have forgot
is the last prayer
of a dying race;
action requiring action.
And it is with naught
but this
I would stir you
to involvements and actions -
let this silly patch
of real-estate composed
of nothing but vapid bits
of light and dark radiations
emanating from my screens
to your screens
personifying,
emulating,
the vapidness
of modern society
be the place to mark
for the world to remember
The When, The Where,
The How of your remembering
to remember.
The When,
The Where,
The How
of your becoming
alive - your becoming
involved.
(Jan 27, 2011 @ 04:17)
Published by Brendan W Vittum
Brendan W Vittum is a self-styled Poet, Author, Philosopher, Photographer, Graphic Designer, and Hardware & Software Specialist whose experience spans more than 25 years. His works have been published in a v... View profile
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