Many sales may ensue if your palette is poo—
you use dung for art.

Any mards that you find can be canvas-entwined
when there’s dung for art.

Critics scream: “It’s extreme!” and your efforts demean.
“What we’ve seen can’t be clean and with germs it must teem!”
Yet shite looks more inviting with each assing day,
and it will constitute your art—screw what they say!

’cause of turds there’s no dearth; peristalsis gives birth
to the dung for art.
Score the shit of a b’ar in the woods not so far
and you’ve dung for art.

But bee sure, to survive, that you ain’t near a hive,
’cause on honey b’ars thrive. I ain’t tellin’ no jive.
When creatures ingest, fart, and rectum rent parts,
you can plunge into a bunch of dung for art.

And then you spew some jive about how hard you strived
so hard till you arrived and this movement derived.
Andy’s epigram’s* smart, so be an upstart—
wait until a bunghole parts to dump dung for art.


* “Art is anything you can get away with.”