The Victor Frankstien
Charcoal art with phoenix ash sculpt with medusa eyes
My art runs kicking
My art beats alive
Pluck loose quills up out my heart and engraft my skin with metaphors,
Mold my debris upon cemented floors,
Into living imagery, vividly un-simmered! Un-timidly bewildering things livid, you got to live it,
It is art entranced in dis-seamed meaning -no strands
Like unstrung puppets klopse marched or zulu danced -no hands
God singing through the Sistine chapel ceiling
Art is alive I heard art weeping on walls -Mona Lisa cries
You see you may have tried,
but you can never kill art, Art never dies
for art takes the dab on the jaw and is immortalized
Hung merrily smiles swinging on nooses like Tarzan on great vines
un-buried alive
excavated, repeated and perpetually illustrated from your basement to the frames and the walls of exhibition stages ink off the pen on the pages to the corners of a pavement that were once vacant and inescapable escape vent for things felt unseen and ignored from heartbreak to beauty and awe
Art kicks out the coffin door and kisses you on the forehead
throwing dirt and roses at your face
sheds a tear recites creeds & eulogies for ceremonies then shape shifts and trades place
for art will never be dead
Art defies both time and space
And
you don't know art
Art is not a concept
Art is not a chord a text a sketch or a complex
You will find "art" within the composition of a heart literally figuratively grammatically reality
you may try to see art
truth is you have to be art
you just have to be true
art is when you are free to express being the real you
art is alive
art
art is a life
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