Hands of Michele Lamy
What`s art for?
I asked myself then asked the one who stands for
What is it?
You`ve learned that puberty is not the reason
For making someone else to feel ashamed of
The Gorgeous entertainment of your body
So if you were able to seduce me sight unseen
Reduce me to prove that your alarm is activated
What`s art for?
To blackmail all the blackness of intentions
Attraction of my glitter is a wild sin
It`s wild but cage is wilder than the convict
What is it?
No blue-eyed never had the certain anger
A statue made of fear makes you stronger
You linger at the top of my temptation
The temple tends to tense my plummy fingers
Inclement Inca Icon of my ravings scrolled by
Your rings, your urban voodoo frenzy
I never wanted you to be so friendly
What`s art for?
If heart is not capacity of nothing
Then what do you expect of me? - To persevere?
I know hunger much better than the fear
Just prove me with your art that you`re real
Am I ridiculous with my own peacocks?
What`s art for?
To squeeze my soul then gently let it flow?
Or crab my mind with symbols, hidden analogy
And subliminal associations
With little help of nostalgia and patience?
I`m going down – I follow your black wing
I`m mad about the owner of these rings
What are you?
Desire itself or wrinkle at the face of prematurity?
What are you?
Some noble, but unknown stone drawing?
What are you?
Art at the step to turn over the mountains
Everlasting reimbursement and divine echo
Just More than I can take into my heart
What are you?
My heart beats. My heart stops.
I love you – I am you. I am yours.
That`s art for