A Journal for Western Man-- Issue VI
G. Stolyarov II
The second-hander panders to the masses;
Every belief and whim of the amorphous crowd
Through sieves of mindless mind as scripture passes,
And no divergence from the paradigm�s allowed.
His labors transient, with fashion�s current shifting,
He�s quick to relegate them to the grave
When unto other superstitions favor�s drifting
And new elites comprise the dominant enclave.
His tastes simplistic, worn clich�s abounding,
His only sentiment a deferential rage,
His only wit like infants� prattle sounding,
He locks himself in the conformist cage.
He thinks that gold within his vaults will pile,
That people will his �normalcy� admire,
That any hint of history in style
Will lose for his works popular desire.
But what men know already�s not their limit,
And they pay artists to expand their scope,
Whereas the panderer does merely trim it,
Robbing the thinker of amelioration�s hope.
Sole men have always been ideas� bearers.
Collective minds, committee thoughts do not exist.
Tribal perceptions are among the greatest errors
Of men who absolute, objective truth had missed.
Thinker fuels thinker in advancement�s quest,
But each mind seeks reality to tame,
Rejecting what delusions fail the test,
And caring not if crowds uphold the same.
But panderers aren�t ultimately dollars seeking.
To them confomity�s the means� and end.
The tribal urge aesthetic merit�s wreaking,
Inciting masses lower to descend.
Only the independent, adamant explorer
Of bold, precise, undaunted flair
Can undermine submission�s humbling horror.
Only his plight can second-handers� faults repair.
