Of course cultures ain’t the products of geniuses,
instead, genius exists outside of these constricting realms,
because they are actually for everyone,
all-inclusive, without those tedious opinions,
within the seemingly limitless maze of claimed artistic expression.
See, you don’t get to decide what defines genius,
whether it’s embraced or spit upon,
genius lived and could have been promptly buried as such,
but nobody can alter gold’s properties by merely concealing it,
or pulverizing it into dust for harsh winds.
Now some vainly imagine they’ve had the great fortune indeed,
somehow tracking down the entire list of geniuses,
what amounts to impeccable founders harboring lofty regimes,
reaching far beyond anyone as dumb as I,
simply leaving us thoroughly ignorant with practically no realistic choice,
except to regrettably accept their supposed awesome visions on faith.
Yeah, only them with tinfoil cauliflower ears can hear,
and we then need to conclude just them with minds can think,
not much left besides spouting a vast artillery of vacuous pretenses,
forging honest blame on those having the gall to fancy,
this understanding of genius and their so-called nasty geniuses also.
Plenty of dirt to scrape from supple stumbling feet,
even if they have to seriously haul it inside each perpetrator’s house,
shortly before furnishing a dramatically hasty departure,
refusing an equal exchange along with patient explanations,
off toward infinitely better audiences of inviting hugs and kisses.
Sharwrong's Song 