The Contemporary Artist The Society October 26, 2012 Poetry By Damian Robin In view, he made a start. Filling up his cart, He flogged his horse apart And made a mess-age: “art.” With few horse hairs of doubt He fanned his ego out, Used skills of nearly “nowt,” Stored bugs in sauerkraut. He keeps his heart in kind And only shows the rind: Dead life redesigned, In emp’ror’s clothes, new lined. He’s made his unknown known. Some say, in deed, he’s grown. This is part one of the short series “Three Human Types” Click here for other poems by Damian Robin. Related Post Ballade on the Man Who Could Have Killed George Washington “But it was not pleasant to fire at the back of an unoffending individual…so I let him alone.” —Major Patrick Ferguson, British Expeditionary Force ... Tell the world:FacebookTwitterTumblrPinterestRedditLinkedInEmail Leave a Reply Cancel Reply Your email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email.