A melting clock is not aesthetically pleasing Nor is it of any utility It celebrates chaos instead of life And bullies us with a manifesto
Surrealism
Gives pale aesthetes topics for their idle hours Surrendering imagination to cliches’ The endlessly self-referential I, I, me, me (Another double-latte, if you please)
Surrealism
The republican’s derivative art is but The emperor’s new clothes turned inside out
(And have you seen my serial takes on Greek ikons re-imagined and re-envisioned as diatomic forms through vegan egg-tempera on recycled barn wood as a repudiation of hidebound colonialist oppressivist occupationist Orthodoxy by sequencing monks on Mount Athos as agnostic Jewish fast-food workers influenced by the works of Dali and the Rapallo poets through a motif of running wedges in asymmetric lines from a cosmopolitan image of Heaven to a day-glow Wal-Mart beside a sea of transcendental bubbles which symbolize my feelings when my latest grant was canceled? Hmmmmmmm? Of course the straights don’t get it; their lack of imagination is why they stopped The People’s funding I deserve so that I can make great art chiding them for being dullard capitalist mechanicals. I take all major credit cards for my works.)