New Art

We have with this internet a new form.

It’s not poetry, essay, fucking thesis, or pamphlets.

It’s the back and forth of anonymity

I don’t care who you are in this dance, your ego is trivial

You fucking scum

Adorno’s dogma of what is and referencing it through insider loops

That dictate and establish meaning

While having them threatened by hijackers

Stop the hatred regardless of its ambition

Stop the feeling of uneasiness no matter its promise

The audience is innoculated against a disease and because of the safe harbor it would be unfair if the disease were to mutate any more

The disease would be immoral if it were to change and adapt

The audience must stay sane and safe

The anonymity must remain predictable and known

The ego dogmatized into being in such an expression that the existential realization is pre approved

A beaucrat's hedon

The new form must abide by an old form that didn’t exist until the new form came into being

Yet the new form can’t realize itself without offending the dogma of old that has just been born

Dare to imagine a new world only if it’s amicable to the old

We are the old and the new

We have existed since dawn but still must be handled as babes

We have birth rights

We have precedence

The science favors us

The world must change to accept our old ways

The new form is proof of that

It’s proof of these words

We must worship the old because we have this anew