The last days of sanity

Forget about form and design…
The projection of flow and splatter…
In circles and hexagons. ..
As vices….blooming. …
As patterns of sequences…
Shaped in matter on clay clinging on walls…

It as the beyond of nothing…
Here and there of defined love…
From outter beam and lifeless bosoms. ..
Space and planetary ancestors. ..
These winds can speak…
But the message is not sound. …
Nor is it formed

Forget appropriate beauty,
Standard life meaning…
Laws and regulations in standing applause…
Of roses and mountain sights…
Save your judgement…
You are not the artist,
You are into the art…

And the art itself

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