AG (1963 - / St.Helens, South Lancashire, UK)


‘And what is truly Art! ’, they cried
To some, Art is worthy,
To others they snide.
We can talk endlessly for hours,
About people whom live in ivory towers,
Whom produce a work that evokes
Sheer apprehension,
Way beyond the public’s comprehension.

‘And what is truly Art! ’, they cried
Melvin Bragg debates,
He’s mad, but he paints.
She’s suicidal and writes poetry,
He hits mallet and chisel in rock
He intends to exhibit beside some
Well known dock,
And it matters little what they do
For it becomes ‘The Emporer’s New Clothes’
To intense for the likes of me and you.

People are drawn with faces like cubes,
Two eyes on their cheeks, or impressed
Within chapels,
Or bowler-hat-ed men standing firmly,
behind apples. Surreal is unreal,
Is Da-Da-ist simply taking the piss?
‘So what is truly Art! ’, we cry.
Shall I await the answer; or shall I sigh?

Some art is talent, some art is bad,
It swings so easily – intellectually –
Between what is good and what is sad,
And people won’t speak out about it,
As decried philistines, you are!
But I don’t care as long as it’s lovely.
And can fit it in the car……………

by Amy Gerrard

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