The Artless Artist …by Jessie 12/05

Art historians, Art Critics, Art Brokers and Dealers
Pompous bags of wind, inflating the sails of a ship that will never sail
Full of hype, full of themselves, full of crap
Turning nothing into something
Spewing toxic dribble from their mouths
Talking to hear themselves talk
Who is listening?
Impressing no one but themselves with their circular talk that leads no where
Believing they are on the cutting edge of creative thoughts
If you understand what they are saying, then you can’t possibly comprehend
If nothing they say makes sense, you are lifted to a higher plain of consciousness
Noses in the air, Merlot in a glass, and masks  
Standing around; everyone stroking each other’s egos
Pretending to see into the artists mind
Hoping no one will figure them out
Afraid to question the other
Exposing the scam they have all created
Bold, brush strokes, color, composition, genius
Buzz words to throw around in crowed, snobbish circles
None are artists, but submerge themselves in art
Thinking they can create… if not the art…the artist
Misguided, and too blind to know it
Take away their ignorance and what do they have left?
The false façade of empty creativity

there was a crack in my soul
then you picked me up and mended me
putting gold in the cracks

and then you dropped me again

now there are many cracks  
and the dust of the fools gold you left behind-

crumbled

I used to be an avid libertarian
Now I am a vocal egalitarian.
I see that Republicans are
Rehearsing to acclaim a Tsar,
Contemptuous of anything agrarian.

My peers are equally divided bubbleheads
Half of their brain cells completely dead.
Their parents taught them so little
That they are caught in the middle
They believe each word their crazy leader said.

The USA is not a pure democracy,
The only thing pure here is hypocrisy.
Voters sit on their hands
And applaud the brass bands
Saying, ”What else can anybody ask of me!”

My peers are equally divided bubbleheads
Half of their brain cells completely dead.
Their parents taught them so little
That they are caught in the middle
They believe each word their crazy leader said.

The USA is not a pure democracy,
The only thing pure here is hypocrisy.
Voters sit on their hands
And applaud the brass bands
Saying, ”What else can be asked of me!”

My peers are **** near useless bubbleheads.
On voting day, three quarters stayed in bed.
They play a dumb political game
Saying both sides are the same
And let our country drown in the watershed.

Some rail and rightly blame the establishment
As if they understood what that really meant;
They know the country’s out of hand
But somehow they don’t understand
The folks they voted in are to our detriment.

My peers are equally divided bubbleheads
Half of their brain cells completely dead.
Their parents taught them so little
That they are caught in the middle
They believe each word their crazy leader said.

"Sonnets From a Conversation With a Friend V"


We have walked often in the woods away
From the pounding city which is home sweet
Home. I like stony dirt best. The owlet
In the branches is your sought for Holy.
We both realize the wonder, softly
Breathing the world with our souls. A cat
Human, and a shoe scuffling human that
Prays for dry sunshine. Leaves, green or motley
Fill the universe, for a short dream time.
We have shared miles and miles of talking that's
Soon forgotten, enjoying it. Once, I made
You swear an oath never to tell to fools
The deep secret that holds me to nature,
Silkily bound,       I love smelling the rocks.

God called upon me tonight
Collect