Art doesn’t exist…

With his brush,
The artist paints our dreams.
Art doesn’t exist...
Art is the world.
Art is not in the galleries,
Nor in the show...
Only the artist does exist.
He is the dreamer
Of our dismal life...
A society which jails its artists,
Puts them apart as useless,
Confines them into a barren role,
Is a sick society.
Insanity is close...
Without our artist,
We have no other future
Than the ruins of our hope.
Artists are the safe keeper
Of our destiny.
A society which spits on them
Become its own cancer,
Self sapping its own blood...
Art doesn’t exist.
Art is the vital air
Our imaginary needs to breath.
Without fantasies,
We are dead alive,
Sucking each other to obtain
Fragments of our own eternity.
And we get poisoned
By each other mediocrity.
Art doesn’t exists.
Art is pure anarchy,
Following no rule nor tendencies
Than the one that is universal...
A society which reduce
The infinite complexity
Of our universe in a
1+1=4
As it is all contained in a

Is a stupid system.

Who sees the 1?
Who dreams the 1?
Who creates again and again
This symbol?
The creator?
Artist is God’s hand...
Humble but proud to be.
Miserable but so reach...

Art doesn’t exist.
Art is to be created
Again and again.

So
Celebrate your artists!