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| Justinaerni/DeviantArt |
Faces on the oil…
The other day when the sun rose west…
And the boss said things craven…
And the debate was ringing..
About grammar and linguistic appropriateness…
And the wise where all opining with flourish..
About the follies of political incorrectness…
I visited a museum..
Yes a museum…..
A famed one…
A Grand old one…
Rusted by the fake praises of a million wasted brochures…..
And there i saw…
Painted..
Reflected…
Pixelated …
Projected..
Impressed…
Expressed…
Induced…
Sublimated…
In all stripes and colors…
Forged without thy caste and birth….
Unidentified with genetic malfunctions and hemophages..
Riddled without muting intellectual and manly disorders of the heart..
And hind….
Faces….
So many faces…
Lots of faces…
All behaving..
Conforming…
Crying…
Happy…
To the standards set…
By the rich and the famous…
In oils filtered to perfection…
From the souls of the damned…
The pathetic..
The rapist…
The criminal…
So much of visual over stimulation…
Got me thinking like a rabid pitbull on steroids….
So much of classic compositions…
Got me ideating…
Like some scheming God forgotten by the people…
So much of stenching goodness…
Got me ringling…
Like an convulsed mass..
Of chained hopes and burnt kisses….
And i deduced…
After many a expletive…
And ablation to my impure body…
The casus belli behind why..
All and every face..
Character…
Persona..
Hero …
And villain be always projected…
On the cursed lisp…
Of the deviants and the rejects…
I also….
After many a painstaking gash of velvet..
To the mythically scarred crosses..
Unearthed out..
Why saints must always risk..
The poverty of the sinners….
Why the oil of the insanious…
The ravaged…
The raped..
And the demonified..
Must always be used…
As a medium..
To produce…
To enforce..
To proclaim..
To reclaim..
What’s ideal…
What’s perfect…
But i couldn’t fathom one thing…
No amount of streaming lines…
Or calm, refined…
Sophisticated discussion..
Could lead me to a reasonable conclusion..about this…
One slight unimportant detail…
That perfection…
Values..
Ethics…
Nobleness…
Saintliness….
Are nothing but constructs of a biased mind…
A compromised conscience…
Spiteful and judgemental…
Vilified enough to curse all our lips and loins ..
To infinity of cursed virginity…
And therefore..
All these used, abused..
Recycled, murdered ideas..
Should be consigned to the dustbin…
Of timurid depravity….
Like why shouldn’t flesh be perfect…?
Why can’t sex be permissive…?
Why can’t dreams be beautiful…?
Why can’t villains endure immortality…
As opinion makers..of logic and cherished sanity…?
All these questions lead to only one answer…
A reduction as definite…as the lurching embrace of the Wolf-back mountains
A position as obdurate as the fact that jesus had a father…
And he that was never ever God….
That whatever we have been ..
Writing..
Sculpting…
Embossing..
Singing…
Lyrising…
Portraying today
in the name of much flowery..
Art and culture…
Is nothing but genocide of the alternative…
Slow cruel extermination of the abominations…
This has to stop…
The peans must be rewritten…
Judas must be honored…
Sin and sith must be praised…
Yang must be given an equal weightage along with yin…
And night must be celebrated…
Just as day……
And all the constructs on oil…
On wax…
On stone..
On nickel…
On verses..
On nerves..
Of faces and ordinances…
Of experiences and idioms…
Of wisdom and unproven knowledge…
Must be emulsified …
Into slithers of hapless ignominy…
For all of them…
lie…
Only lie
And keep on lying…
That vileness and gore is heaven…
While lickings and the sweetest of nectars…
Are nothing but monsters of some..
Unqualified shame….
My thoughts..
