Imposters be there many…

Imposters be there many now in art;
There’s some in whole and many more in part,
They sound superior, speak as they knew all,
“Abstractionism’s beautiful more than all!”
These lifeless paintings that they praise and push
Would make a tree cry, “Fake! Not e’en a bush!”
The splattered paint, the twisting, snaking dots,
Would make real knights run off from Camelot!
“I grasp the deeper meaning so superiorly,
It’s proof that what I’m seeing is my me.”
It’s true, she’s got it; there’s nothing there
But naked nothing, which is more bare than bare.
But you, who love the real and glorious true,
Make your ideal the art that smiles on you.

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