The Tale of My Post-modern Creative Genius
It began on an intimate autumn sunset: I
was the most figurative archivist around,
She was the most post-modern creative.
She was my genius,
My post-modern genius,
We used to jackson pollock so well
together, Back then.
We wanted to andy warhol together,
around the world,
We wanted it all.
But one sunset, one intimate sunset,
We decided to andy warhol too much.
Together we painted a paradox.
It was visceral, so visceral.
From that moment our relationship
changed. She grew so modernist.
And then it happened:
Oh no! Oh no!
She reconceptualized an ephemerality.
Alas, an ephemerality!
My genius reconceptualized an
It was fetishized, so fetishized.
The next day I thought my creative
mindset had broken, I thought my phallus
had burst into flames,
(But I was actually overreacting a little.)
But still, she is in my thoughts.
I think about how it all changed that sunset,
That intimate autumn sunset.
My phallus… ouch!
When I think of that post-modern creative,
That post-modern creative and me.