Way Back #4: Art for Arts Sake

I wrote this five and a half years ago.  I was trying to be sly and clever and think I got a little wordy and pretentious.  It kind of holds up though.  I liked it enough to save it all this time.


An artist in every man with a necessity against every urge and a possibility of change from one to one to one.

Fraudulent innocence presented with unadulterated beauty that would take a number of creative minds to equal.
She is left with only her blank canvas as the painter wields his brush, the writer his quill and the sculptor his chisel.
All approaching their task at once, but from different angles with different ideas.
The painter arrives with a calmness in his tool.
Each stroke across her frame subtle, yet revealing.
Experiencing her plains, her mountains and her valleys.
Words of lust written on her frame.
Penned by the quills of passion.
Her picture worth well over its ignorant value, as that could not even account for her lips.
Her slate approached from behind by the sculptor.
Chisel and hands used as one, embracing her immediately without hesitation.
Her rock in his hands molding to the creation he can feel inside her.
The simultaneous embrace of the artists weighing down the contours of her mind.
The grinding roughness, the seductive cunning, the smooth caress push her to limits unknown.
Their finesse complimenting that which she is known.
Her beauty full and vibrant as it expands with every passing jolt, fondle and touch.

2 thoughts on “Way Back #4: Art for Arts Sake

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