The Art
by linda marie pharaoh-carlson©all rights reserved
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Absolute obedience to the gnawing within.
No force feeding or thought strewn haplessly about in nonsensical blatherings being passed around
as enlightenment, or "the latest in art noveaux or genius.
It's not pummeling the world at large with feigned, yet questionable "talent".
"It makes no sense"... "Oh, you think not?"..."You've just no eye
for real art".
Perhaps,
But only just enough to fool the higher echelons of the very elite, occasionally.
And yet those words possess no depth nor meaning, to the one who truly creates
by pulling up reserves from within the epicenter of their innermost heart.
And what of those who think, perhaps more than they ought.
Who boast more than we deem bearable,
Who's trademark accompanies them in their
Orange and yellow Pierre Cardin' wraps, martini's in hand?
They think they know, yet know nothing.
They judge and yet bristle, if judged.
They'd have no store with such an under classed,
presumed uneducated,
or unsophisticated lot.
Hold up...
Exalt the words that come to you as your ticket to life.
They enable you to be who you are.
They are in and of themselves, the art.
The poetry, the experience of breathing.
For those who stand upon the sidelines of creativity,
Who dare peer through one-sided glasses and buried
emotion but have no clue, it's simply this.
It is depth of one's soul spilled upon the individual pages of life,
Which constitutes real masterpiece.
Stirring souls,
Saving lives.
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Living is an art
That few execute well.
