Art, in reality, can take no prisoners
The quotidian is the only child that survived
At this carnival, we all pretend to be listeners
Gawking at the next big things to have arrived.
Here, there is pliant analysis of critical theory
Impassioned commentary on sub-altern history
The mind has a life of its own, we are told
So let's grapple with issues, not knock them out cold.
Those that craft say it is a primal urge
But you tell me what is natural about aesthetic
Art is art, nature is nature (only one a scourge)
The thought a phantom limb, craving a prosthetic.
Conjuring words that reveal themselves prudential
Only art reminds that it is inconsequential.