Pluck a new leaf
Paint it red
Hang it upside down
Call it Poetry
Take a snowflake
Microwave
Mix soda and serve hot
Call it Music
Chop off a head
Wrap and choke
In plastic sheets
Call it Sculpture
Bite off an ear
Pour in boiling oil
Into the eyes too
Call them Audience
I shall still work
My Pen into a frenzy
Of colors less sanguine
More poignant
More pristine
Witch hunt my gay heart
Drill in nails of latest hot taboo
– ‘Light is mundane.
Art sans Dark and Gore is Vain’ –
Go ahead
Crucify
Every Prophet’s Songs
Till you find
No vision to laugh, weep or sing over
The Sun tomorrow shall still rise
Decrying this bleak surmise
Someday, oh not far away,
Displacing a certain August dread
August’s reign shall yet return
Infusing in all things a new Bright
Art of undying Light
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