The Art Of Scribbling Poem by RIC BASTASA

this is art.
this is not really just a game or a habit.
it is not a barrier not a bar
or dart.
this is the art of concealment but which hungers for an opinion.
this is the player at the backstage putting a mask, or a thick layer of make up
winks, and practices the movement of eyeballs.

this is the art of conveying emotions
a little bit exaggerated to get you direct to the point
nothing about pegs on square holes.

this is the art of dressing up for the proper occasion.
you pay attention to particular details expecting that he can also
understand the protest of your
color and insignias.

this is what you read and analyze and say perhaps this is it.
that this is what i am and this is all about what happened to me in the past
or that the future is already well drawn and
with your conclusions, then i am what you think i am.

but this is not what i am.
precisely because this is art.

just art.Not a dart.

that is the circle where you throw the dart
you did not hit the red zone.

you see, why should you blame me for just being happy
for just living a certain moment?

this is art and this is not what i am.

this is the world, this is what we actually are.