Towards Better Democracy

Good words, well written, better the world. Good literature betters the world immeasurably.

The Constant Threat: the art work Dead Serious

The creative force once unleashed is a Sabre-Toothed vicious snarling beast unless on our Art it feed. Greed.

A clockwork mouse stands in front trembling with the heart-beat of a drum. Regularity: the clock’s ticks door-close to doom. The time stamp is on our every move and paint. Watched from a predator’s height, eyed ready to strike.

The Laocoon-heaved force overpowers as swift as a sentry’s throat-cut slit. Creeps silent as a Snake in the night; Watched, studied, by an Indifferent Host. This force does drive the flower dead, if the blood does not flow: A surgeon’s bitter disappointment we. The gimbal-like balance at the edge of the cliff. The Constrictor’s squeeze, a burst balloon.

Fragile, in search, and pursuit, of beauty – wow! – the enemies are many and surround tight closing. All in nature has its prey. To count odds is lies in the Book of Trivia. Which will never be writ. Nor make Art. A mote-drop crushing unseen. A speck-dusted eye in a blink does not mend but breaks.

The beauty of the forest the fire destructs. Happiness sudden Hell’s mouth agapes to swallow whole a momentary loss of sense. The inattention fatal as at the front the trench.

Think not that this is not True: Not all but few have perfect balance. The wheel of life tips in our in our favour as in the throw of a dice.

Weak, strong, mental health or no, we all may succumb unless we attend and daily feed and feast this beast which does not slouch but stands hair-raised erect. Worse by far than the Fall in the Garden should the Artist not obey.

Still, we are smiling are we.

Malcolm D B Munro
Friday 17 August, 2018
Copyright, 2018 All rights reserved.


Filed under: art, Literature, Music, poetry, songs, stories

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