Poetry
Signed by the unknown artist
A handwriting on a wig stand
A stylized blank fearful face that is
Weak, hospitable and gentle and kind-
The antonym of an abomination .
This prop of blindness propelled into the art world.
Heads up Tutorials everywhere,
Trending on social media platforms,
How to be an influencer in art
Parting a red sea of confetti
Banana with a ripcord.
This triumph that has become a sensation
Taken from a bin of topsy turvy heads,
That someone already made
Then scrolled an identity to stir
the critics pen.
It sits in the museum on a golden monolith
And everyone marvels at this body less
Icon.
Posing with its lifeless charms
A mythology while someone snaps a selfie with one eye
On their smartphone nearby.
Hashtag cyclops
Hashtag heads-up
Hashtag not-marvel
Hashtag wink
Everyone wants one for their hallway or office lobby
On a stand at the end of the table like an honoured guest.
A menu in front
With Greek in braille
As comedy in the horror.
The tale of this artists fame falls short
Like photographing an abandoned shopping
Mall
An apocalyptic lie
Of consumerism
To steal someone else’s primordial
Fire.
The torches that were once stoked are now soaked in
Monstrous reviews of art thievery as a genius plot
A Dollar store horror prop that became the new
R. Mutt.
The art class scurries to the bad side of town
To make a masterpiece for final review
Where everything is easy to photography
Fallen buildings and boarded up windows
The prof says,
easy iris
Wait for the rest of the group.
Iris curls in front of the empty
Windex bottle on destroyed couch in the alley
Her camera on a monopod propped
In a discarded umbrella stand
This is not a conch, or am I an odalisque, she exclaims!
But she wants to be a famous
Imagines her name
Iris written on cyclops,
To become a sensation of desolation
In her mind.
Radios without tubes and transmissions
Guts all hung out in wires
From her blouse
A colonial cyborg
Not automated
This is just one for insta
Iris is a influencer
Peddles makeup
And cleavage
Drives a Cadillac Coupe
She’s a gen z
A modem day Athena
With
Only fans
An heiress to the febreze
Company.
Her mother spies her art final presentation
As bad upbringing.
A photograph of a discarded droid in a trash heap,
As her father turns nervously a heirloom ring
On his index finger
And changes his Star Wars ring tone to
Home on the range.
The crowd all circles a solo television
Transfixed by
A sculpture of a decapitated cyclops head with
Single eye removed
Gaping cavity of oblivion
Is on every channel
The Societal medium tedium
That keeps the auction houses
In the press
While the rich invest in escapism
At its best
And fears are at bay
Or is this something that they
Say.