Saturday, April 12, 2008


The purpose of art

Is extremes

You said

It should tickle

Your funny bone

Or wrench your gut

No use just

Making you smile

Or pucker your mouth

In sadness

It should make you

Get up from your seat

And roll on the aisle

Convulsed in laughter

Or it should shred

Your innards

Like a serial killer’s

Serrated knife

Milking every ounce of pathos


If it doesn’t do either

Art is purposeless

Nothing is more


Than unrequited love


Nothing is more romantic than

The illusion of the marketer

People are waiting for him

Success stories are so


So boring

Give me a failed product

Any day

And I will show you

The magic of art