it’s what’s done that can’t be said stupidity you can see it’s just me can’t tell you all the things i see cause i don’t really know it all i cry and lament of whats uncanny sensibilities for unnecessary points of grandeur don’t help me all they do is keep me awake
O modern beast our captive arts release, The laws of Nature wished your reign to cease. What beauties does this modern art restores By turning vestals young to Russian ******. How strange the painter draws his new reforms 5 Reducing Nature’s shapes to foggy forms. All, I may add, by rambling thoughts conceived If Nature’s order’s razed the goal’s achieved. ‘‘What then?’’ A tasteless judge if dared to ask, To which the answer wears pretentious mask: 10 ‘‘Dear Sir! ’Tis art, all ***** mere symbols made, And *****, though crude, denotes the father’s shade’’ Go Man admire the fruits of twisted state, Interpret ***** as something deeply great. Let ***** Cupid stab his precious heart 15 To make our poesy more interesting art. Let Cyrus wreck the might of Shakespeare’s throne, And use her tongue to lick his hallowed stone. Thus, give the verses blank to frenzied beasts, Or let Rihanna burn Miltonic seats. 20 A simple critic might her craft enjoy, But witty minds oft do their gift employ. New Cornus comes with broken tools to teach Yet none can bear to hear postmoderns preach. They mumble days upon the wage and race 25 For them the world’s a strife, that is the case.