# a draft #
Your redness caught my eye
angry, like the bygone days –
the good old red fiery times
when art shouted slogans, engaged.
Red over red, undermines the
staunch obsession with belief – the
passionate commitment to passion
against the enemy of idealism.
That red has paled, diluted by
an influx of dinarii. Now its
intensity fades, new ideologies
relish the find of new enemies.
Who is to blame? history’s
ignorance? the people’s naivety?
or art’s chronic illness that
mars its already weak veracity?
You do mean that
the ‘no’ is hiding
behind a fancier form
of your former self?