deepundergroundpoetry.com
Sinfonetta
Love & Art were my parents.
Art was a magnificent obsession. he was an enigma,
bright & rich in exotic colors one moment, & darkly
brooding, lachrymose, the next. & he travelled;
travelled to every corner of this peculiar world.
he was the glory of Greece & the grandeur of Rome.
he was the treacherous alleys of Paris & the arrogant
theatre of Olde England. he was the Broadway charm &
the lush galleries of New York, & the glamorous noir &
gunfire of old Hollywood.
Love was a devoted mate & an elegant mistress. she
provided the inspiration that served Art in each of his
endeavors. she bathed him in aromatic waters, shampoo’d
his long hair. she kept him intrigued with all forms of sex.
she nurtured him & cried for him; & she waited for him. so
much of her cannot be revealed, because so much of Love
is secret.
Art was the illustrious city of Dresden, adorned with sculpture,
paintings, & architecture. until the war planes came, &
ravaged the streets with incendiary bombs, thus casting his
very heart into the roiling flames of Hell.
Love was dragged from her house of alluvium by an enraged
mob for consorting with Art: heathens who knew nothing of
the splendour of passion, & of beauty. she was beaten &
kicked on the unflowered ground, her clothes ripped from her
sorrowing body. her nakedness was pristine, radiant under
the wisping blood. she died with his name on her lips.
Art was murdered, & Love was killed. & I am an orphan,
forsaken in the dire shadows,
where even poetry is abandoned…
(Art: Bruce Liston)
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