Poems as representational art or music with obvious themes

You. 

You want something easy.

You don't wanna work. 

Thinking is hard for you.

Abstraction is well beyond you.

You need to be force-fed. Open your mouth. I am feeding you. 

You are in an art museum, and you don't understand what you see.

It's a Jackson Pollock. All you see are squigglies. You think your kid can do it better. 

You. You're in Disney Hall, and you hear a tone row by Schoenberg but you think your kid can do it better.

You are trying to read Finnegan's Wake but you can't get past the first sentence and you know goddamned well your kid can't do this better but you don't have any other frame of reference for an insult this grand. 

It doesn't even matter what political spectrum you are. You may even be a liberal.

But. You just have this ultra-conservative non-processualizing cerebrum that refuses to insight your inner eyes, ears, nose into inside and within the cloud of beingness where someone lives and creates.

You want it to be logical.

You want to be able to measure it.

You need it to make sense.

You are tactile and need to hold it.

If your beingness lifts up and out through your cerebrum, out up and away into their cloud of being, you get scarred. Not scared. Scarred.

You protect yourself with a shieldaegis of inner stupid. 

You may even be very smart, but you are very being stupid. 

Dumb, in fact.

Your insides are corroded with so much mucous that it buffers the sharp angles of being otherness from penetration. isolation alienation barriers fear stupid mucous buffer.

You want Pollock to draw a house with stick figures and a smiley face. 

You want Schoenberg to write Mary Had a Little Lamb.

You want Joyce to write a romance Harlequin novelette filled with hungry vaginas and big dicks. 

And these are mind objects from over a century ago. Well...Pollock was 1950s...

You need a formalistic structure to do your thinking for you as you discover your lack of inner beingness and imagination.

And somehow you wind up the head, or chair, of academic music and art departments across the country, judging, criticizing, inflicting, deciding, moderating, choosing the inferior over the superior.

You give Guggenheims to the morons you deem worthy. Pulitzers to the undeserving, while the geniuses languish and decay, far away, beyond your understanding and limited, corroded imagination.

You all say LESS IS MORE, economy of means, and other trite platitudes that stem from the Age of Enlightenment over two centuries ago. Another realm. Another time. 

Commodifying art and music and literature as neo-liberal capital value, not only to the average guy, but to the average guy academic, who now number into the hundreds of thousands, dumbing down the gene pool into lower cave dwelling troglodytic no-thumbs rock counting and cockroach eating.

Solutions? I have none. ZERO. zilch. nichts. KEIN. ingenting. nada. Stop giving DMA's? Stop commodifying art? Stop neo-liberalism? Kill Wall Street? Kill yourself?