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When Atoms Reach for Sacred Altars

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  When Atoms Reach for Sacred Altars What do you feel when you touch something sacred? Do you want to touch sacred art? Are we creatures bound by thermodynamics, driven by an instinctual urge to exchange heat, shed skin cells, and mingle our matter with the monuments we revere? To stand before a sacred masterpiece is to experience a gravitational pull—an irresistible desire to collapse the space between subject and object, to leave an oily fingerprint as proof of shared existence.  The gallery border is a social construct attempting to enforce absolute vacuum, forbidding the inevitable entropy of human connection. To reach out anyway is to assert that our physical reality is not separate from the sublime, but bound to it by the very matter we carry on our fingertips. Reaching across that barrier is a quiet rebellion against social decorum: a desperate want for quantum entanglement that collapses the boundary between ideal beauty and our messy, lived reality. Be Creative a...
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The Art of Bigots

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The Art of Bigots

Please Explain (Bigots on the Storm)

thunder cracking, pouring rain, distant tortured piano

[Verse 1]

Bigots on the storm

Bigots on the storm

Into this hell we're thrown

Like a corpse without a home

A puppet carved from bone

Bigots on the storm


[Verse 2]

There's a Hanson in the abyss

Her mouth is rotting with the hiss

"Swamped by Asians!" vomits through the black

"Please explain!" — the last words you’ll hear back

Take a long holiday to the void

Let the mining blood money be enjoyed

If you give this poison a ride

Sweet Australia will suicide

Hanson in the abyss… yeah


[Chorus]

Bigots on the storm

Bigots on the storm

Into this grave we're thrown

Bigots on the storm


[Verse 3]

Burqa in the Senate, reaper in disguise

"Muslims incompatible!" as the nation dies

"No good ones," she exhales like cyanide

"Religion of hate," the bigots glorify

Child after child on the dole they curse

Conditional sorry — watch the country burn first

If I've offended the good ones, well…

The storm devours and tolls the final bell


[Bridge – spoken low, demonic echo, barely human]

And the shadows on the forums bleed

"Send 'em back!" as the last light recedes

They're takin' our jobs, our beer, our soul

Stupid remarks dig the nation’s hole

"Fake news, mate!" howls into the black

While the truth is slaughtered and never comes back


[Chorus – layered, ghostly screams]

Bigots on the storm

Bigots on the storm

Please explain…

Please explain…

[Outro – fading into endless void, whispers turning to screams]

Bigots on the storm…

Please explain…

(whispered, dying) Please… explain…

thunder swallows everything







John Bennett - AKA JJFBbennett, is an independent artist. You can view and subscribe to my work via Blogger, YouTube, Flicker, Facebook, Instagram and Deviant Art. 

Subscribe to JJFBbennett's private FB hub: https://www.facebook.com/share/g/18ythpSXPZ/

You can subscribe to my music via YouTube Music, Spotify, iTunes, Apple Music and Soundcloud

To support my art, feel free to donate via JJFBbennett through PayPal  



Copyright

This artwork is protected by U.S. and International copyright laws. Distribution and/or modification of the artwork without the written permission of the sponsor is prohibited.

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