I ask as I read
Your diagnoses of the dead
Of the madness of artists
And the ravings of poets –
Do you consider what’s said?
Do you think ANY poet sane?
How can you understand such a brain
When you treat metaphor with disdain?
I ask as I read
When you speak of Van Gogh
Diagnoses are made
And his brilliance fades –
Viewed as a freak
Diseased imagination
That glorified sunflowers
And saw beauty in the mundane
I ask as I read
The criteria you make
To call artists mad
Synonymous with bad
Prejudiced rules
Constructed by fools
With stupid textbooks
Created by crooks
With hidden agendas
Arrogant and friendless
Do you consider any poet “chemically balanced”?
Do you consider any artist “appropriately behaved”?
Or are poetry and art the very diseases
That you would rid the human race of?
The human race, tired of running
Round in circles
Driven ever faster, the human race
Sick of competing and climbing the ladder
Deeper into the sewer Of greedy profiteering
Relentless careering
Artists exploited, poets tortured
The victims cry out, but fear to be clear
They speak in metaphor
To hide their horror
They have seen the world as poets
As sensitive people
Not “schizophrenics”.
(words and music by Romesh Senewiratne-Alagaratnam Arya Chakravarti, 1999)
Guitars, bass and vocals by Romesh)
