Thursday, April 28, 2016

Gregg Dotoli- A Poem

True Loss (root)

the first day 
man sold art
freedom flew and beauty's eyes grew
nervous like a lost child
profit gnashing consumed Art of each type
the great anti-muse criticism
deflated and suppressed 
human creativity
riveted by institutional protocol
driven by feeble sickly judges
creators heard the flute of dissuasion 
while the muses wept
vowing to never quit
waring with slings of hope
and the golden seed of wonder
planted deep within each newborn

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