I would have to put this poetic entry in the category of “In Questionable Bad Taste,” as I attempt to pay a back-handed compliment to the world of Art. About 6 months ago, my wife and I were in Venice at an Art Museum, and I felt a certain sense of relaxation while enjoying the exquisite pieces of creativity that surrounded us. It’s probably not a normal reaction to what many believe deserves a sophisticated critique. Here’s mine:

Art Makes Me Fart 

If I need to relax,
A museum is smart.
I can feel the relief,
‘Cause Art makes me fart.

Take it from me,
When I need to unload.
Sometimes I feel,
Like I just might explode.

Sometimes they’re sneaky,
Fore-warnings not there.
Beware of these moments,
Those around you will care.

A stroll through a gallery,
Can produce a big sigh.
Always try to make sure,
There’s a rest room nearby.

Or go off by yourself,
You don’t want to be rude.
When a painting inspires,
And you need to exude.

Analyzing a sculpture,
Can cause a release.
And this is why art,
Gives me pure peace

If it indeed moves you,
Let it silently Pass.
Find an Exit nearby,
Show you’ve got class.

It’s a natural reaction,
As Art makes an Impression.
If you just keep moving,
There’s no need for confession.

Your favorite artist,
Might be van Gogh.
Practice restraint,
Don’t Just let go.

It might be music,
That you grow to savor.
Whatever form of art,
You personally favor.

Wait till you hear,
The Fat Lady Sing.
Before you decide,
To toot that thing.

Gauguin gives me gas,
Picasso makes me purr.
I create some diversion,
When the urge does occur.

You never want to hear,
“What’s that smell?”
So move quickly away,
Once you expel.

Since I’m really skilled,
At defusing a fart.
Can misdirection,
Be considered an art?

Copyright 2018 johnstonwrites.com