Let none dare call it beauty that commands
Feigned praise from those whom fashion deems refined
But deep revulsion from an honest mind
Derided for the truth it understands:

Inhuman, formless smears of artless hands;
Cacophonies that screech, burp, rasp, and grind;
Steel, glass, and concrete tortuously designed;
And crude words unrefined by form’s demands.

These are but poses, empty, shameless lies
That mask their inner gaping void to sell
As truth to mobs of self-deluded fools.

But truth needs never fool. Its beauty lies
In what our universe and our selves tell:
An ordered harmony of timeless rules.


Adam Sedia (b. 1984) lives in his native Northwest Indiana, where he practices law as a civil and appellate litigator. His poems have appeared in Indiana Voice Journal and Tulip Tree Review. He has also had short stories and works of legal scholarship published in various journals. He also composes music, which may be heard on his YouTube channel.

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2 Responses

  1. C.B. Anderson


    You’ve nailed it. The emperor has no clothes, except for those who celebrate their own self-delusion and the collective delusion created by extreme modernism. We are fortunate here to hear from someone with a clear vision of what’s really going on.


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