Art is love and love is autonomy

16 OCT 2009
ART IS LOVE AND LOVE IS AUTONOMY

Art is love and love is autonomy
Without a dependency on a school of thought
You wouldn’t understand
The sum of all this art you possess,
Its part, its compositions, elements,
The genesis, the climax till the peak of its revelation
This path we walk is anonymous
In this existence and after perpetually
Still you wouldn’t understand
The word strange like the wind spirit
Blowing past commanding all direction
The more love and attention you spend
The more pledge of oneself sent
Blood, tears and sweat blowing this horn
Into its lungs and raise it to its feet
Your food is for those who wish to feed
Upon a poet’s creed
Bridging the gap between
Those blacks and kaffirs who dread to read
You wouldn’t understand
It’s not for you to understand,
When human understanding falls short to understand human nature
Like a brother lacking accountability somehow becomes a liability
A broken correlation reflects mental transformation
Our lives are dependent, devised systematically
Pure for what his rib and he are
Light bulb and socket
Fate manifest them fit
You wouldn’t understand why you underachieve
And those closest would undermine time
The definition of what shall transcend
Like seasons, Ecclesiastes 3 there is a time for everything
They wouldn’t understand
The transition of a weapon being a tool
Your fortitude refined, polished, like
Butterflies and worms contradict each other’s reflections
Yet there is a line between the two,
There is a gap where you die and those living walking the path
While you stand, waiting for life to pay what’s due to you
Still they wouldn’t understand
The grade of your failure and the sum of its nature
Upon which foundation this self expression stands
Reflecting no other
Your art is love, and love is autonomy
Without a dependency on a school of thought
Let those who try to define
Decline to categorize what soul bliss is under these blue skies
Still they wouldn’t understand
The abstractness of your depth and style
Fitting into this graded society
Being one of those analysed, classified, boxed, shelf packed
As being too uncommon, like
A black coconut,
One eyed identified  
And the other eye blind amplified
Like white people’s 1st time
Clinging bum to bum
Illustrating the love of doves
And the sum of it lust
The attraction of the moth to this light
Somehow dies for some
Just a leg, a phase in this venture we call life
This fuel in life is God given
Nature driven, fortified and set
And you wouldn’t understand
The sum of all this art you posses
And you being a child of life’s circumstances
And not of mainstreams that conceive common change
The podiums are full of freedom
Kingdoms only a poet knows
In between his own of desire and strive
Yet the spoken word is a Sheppard
Only a poet sows
And feeling is what he reaps
Art is love and love is autonomy
You wouldn’t understand
Yes you wouldn’t understand
When love is on the house, complimentary
Simplified, applied given like an untimely gift
The symbol of what we are
Is truth filtered, opinions of “maybe if I became” sieved
Common factors, denominators, terminated
When love becomes the perpetrator
The darkness we know
Becomes the light we never knew
You wouldn’t understand
Yes you wouldn’t understand