there once was a canvas all covered in chalk
that hung on the wall for the people to gawk
one day the museum took it away to be cleaned
in its place a humble mop in the corner they leaned
the patrons all read the small sign still explaining
the meaning of artwork no longer remaining
of course being dolts with their heads in the culture page
immediately a bidding war started to rage
for the mop and its bucket all covered in splart
which they thought was a magnificent work of modern art
one dude offered eight trillion dollars to spend
to take the mop home and impress his art friends
this other guy tried to outbid him exclaiming
"i'll sell all my palo alto mansions for one painting"
well one thing and another and finally some kid said
"I think that might actually just be a mop stick and head
that somebody left from the cleaning crew last night"
and with a sickening silence everyone realized he was right
the moral of this true story as anyone can ascertain
is that beauty is nothing but a currency of social gain
and modern art is the worst so why should i care
if you think my poems aren't good enough to publish, Don Share?
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