• Thinking upon words bring so many points to mind,
    When things fall,
    When things hit the floor,
    Do they leave us ruined or strong?
    Or what if nothing left is nothing to have at all?
    When questions remain that,
    yet become pointless introspective babble,
    upon such thing we cannot deny solidity,
    dust remain with hearts and minds,
    Slaves of nothing human mind and desire,
    dust of passion and solid grip with lust,
    yet love and kindness falls within it,
    a knife to cut the darkness that is light as well,
    handing over circular worlds,
    paradoxically wondrous,
    its the bleeding parapet of truth
    which we fear for its disgusting look,
    and fear we will seem inhumane,
    because this blood of truth within everything is warped by sight,
    the blood is just a term,
    for what it is is more like water,
    more like life,
    but now,
    its twisted by our eyes and mind,
    the heart cant see now,
    and compassion isn't able to help anymore,
    We wont destroy ourselves,
    its just gonna be what happens,
    today tomorrow or never,
    each stroke of keys,
    of sound and pen and ink,
    Each a sense,
    and finally the taste of passion,
    which is a kiss so sweet its the strongest,
    we can hear the piano keys,
    we can see the ink,
    we taste the kiss,
    we touch a lover in a sweet embrace of our own form of passion,
    and yet our sight is weak,
    and so thusly,
    is our unknown sense,
    our thought,
    our ability to imagine and dream,
    because without all five senses strong and pure the last is not complete,
    why else is a child so easily creative,
    no matter what it is possible to be pure,
    but the world is not the reason we lose it,
    its just what happens,
    Blame is pointless,
    its just our roads,
    our sad truths,
    the ones that become the twisted sand pits,
    dried up with our thoughts and depressions,
    our overwhelming emotion,
    yet its not bad,
    The world is not bad,
    to be weak of sight is not bad,
    it is only a sad fact,
    and its just what is done,
    like our sight we will weaken,
    so now is our time
    enjoy with prudence and caution,
    but don't hold back what we have left because our time may be near ending,
    or it may not,
    let the artist create a masterpiece even if its nude or graphic,
    and begin to appreciate not form morals but from true beauty,
    censorship is pointless now,
    when we have let a censor allow us to choose whats right and wrong,
    because great art,
    is not limited,
    it is hard to even place it in a form of sight,
    when our true dream is impossible to attain without invoking the senses completely,
    art is everything.
    And everything is art,
    because art is not the word I mean,
    It is the closest because art is everything truly,
    so words are impossibly inaccurate,
    still,
    we have censored too far,
    when it comes to a child they will see what the parent deems,
    they merely but cover a sense,
    sight hearing anything,
    and ignored what they don't need to know,
    when the world is so broad,
    why do we restrict a painter who paints his dreams,
    and then has to never share it,
    simply because of what it is,
    forever stalling his beauty,
    or her of course,
    While we base this on sight,
    we thusly fail to notice,
    when a pianist plays his piece,
    you never could tell it of lust,
    when the tones are so sharp and crisp like the act of love,
    a sweet serenade that can change the tempo to the forms endless,
    the sexual is never noticed,
    it is so through this it is unfair,
    when a pianist is allowed his beauty,
    and a painter is not,
    I could list it all,
    still the point would remain,
    music,
    ink,
    food,
    love,
    emotion,
    passion,
    everything,
    its art,
    and censoring it,
    is not reasonable anymore,
    it is reasonable to provide a world not based on singular facts as sex,
    yet it only has become a way to denounce it,
    when one says its not Christian,
    why?
    When one says its not moral,
    who said it is not moral?
    What if god didn't exist?
    Does that even matter?
    Why must such a loving being thusly allow you to censor an artist?
    When his beautiful art is a obvious gift,
    when a poet writes a passionate poem,
    do we not blush enthralled even if we feign disgust?
    Art will always affect us,
    so why be afraid of true life?
    Only shield children because you must not let them warp the meaning,
    only criticize what is not art,
    for once look at deeper meaning,
    when you see a painting or poem about sex,
    look at the details,
    what does this artist focus most on?
    Why?
    Could it be sex is something not just what you think to this person?
    Could a meaning not even sexual be involved?
    What if it was a simple shape of the breast,
    would show a form of a a heart on a body,
    and it is to show love is what this person thinks sex is most about?
    That love is shown so well in the sexual world,
    and that love is not to be taken lightly?
    Should I play piano,
    and you hear me pound the deeper notes,
    the chorus deep while I playfully hit higher octaves,
    could I bee playing at the foreplay at my lovemaking?
    And the enjoyment of it is my focus?
    I can see it,
    you can too use a sight beyond your sight,
    and let yourself actually become music,
    when you hear a voice talk,
    don't just listen and understand the words,
    hear the breathing,
    hear the octave change and lower,
    and you will find music that tells completely of everything.
    Even if they are adept and controlling their pitch and voice,
    you can learn to figure it out.
    I promise,
    one day art will be true,
    will you be ready?