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?
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 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…?