So as the eyes grow weary of even the Great Art

Mankind thinks thoughts – innumerable in a day

His eyes land upon something else

And for a moment he is entranced

A moment of moments

Becoming moments gone by


He will leave his Great Art

And wander again in conversations had

with anyone willing to listen and talk

Regurgitation is inevitable

As is – response to former opinions

Past – present – future


And what’s it all about anyway?

Why discuss it?

It’s largely make-believe

We have invented the wheel

And now art wants to steal – 


So boiling it all down

Post-modern needs post-post-modern

Or some such thing

to become fresh and new


What ‘pops’ in your eyes this weather?

You have seen it all before?

Not quite?

It’s exciting tonight?

Tomorrow – a different story?


A different story – is looked for…

As the debate continues

And the eyes find new things:


It’s digital?

It’s found or fun objects?

It’s the thought that counts?

As aesthetics are minor-ised

It’s the isms and prisms

And the secret knowledge

Brought-out about camera obscura


So what’s left to say?

Much in every way?

Or does the regurgitation continue…?

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