The Enemy Of Art.

October 21, 2008 at 6:48 pm | Posted in blogging, poetry, prosepoemthingy, writing | 14 Comments
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Complacency, the enemy of art, he said, especially among the smug, buttoning his belt while unbuttoning his tongue. You fools think you can steal from me and then parade yourselves in stolen clothes as though some mere mockery of me? My paranoia is not so much of Edward Lear nor King but more Othello. And turns.

must you forever play Iago, Squires, why not something far more subtle. Because, sir, in the olden days there was no amplification beyond the human voice and now every voice is equally electrically enhanced, so it will become again a game of shouts and whispers and occasional masterly asides through barely disguised musichall moustachios, I tells ya,

them sails are low boys, now suck in air
and blow,

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