Democracy And Art Poem by Alexandre Nodopaka

I died and went to heaven.
There was this angel who told me in cloud language
that most of my published artworks were clouded fluff
and now that I was up here, their bosses,

the archangels presiding over my future artistic fate
decided to publish what I didn't create but had only
glimmers of thoughts and that every time
upon awakening these slivers of ethereal brilliance

vanished into super thin mesospheric air.
Of course now that I was so high up the earthly
heavy mass of molecules couldn't interfere
with my memory.

So, the archangels and I sat in the round on a very
large Cirrus cloud and despite the hurricane wind
we brain stormed until we came up
with the following,

That art was fluff and when grouped in square clots
would look best painted in tetrahedral shapes.
Then, from the adjoining cloud, a bored looking God
peeked and sonorously claimed he had already done it

over and over and that we could do better.
It goes to show that democracy in socialized
heavenly art wasn't worth a fogged up fart
and that it can exist by dictatorship.