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Art And Reality

Similar to the light of our days
the black heralds greeted Goya
in the sordid world of the stupid kings;
the dance and the happiness seemed true
but only the scythe was truth.

Now without art
there is a dirty peace as in those kingdoms:
here they govern with a fingernail
and look and see all the bodies.
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Thursday, September 24, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: art
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