Nonfiction:

ART is the original Aesthetic Reproduction of Thought and/ or emotion, or the lack thereof. Science is the study of how to either explain or reproduce ART, or other phenomena. Craft is the reproduction of artistic work, or the set of skills required for working artistically. This simple paragraph does much to explain what ART is, and what it is not. It does much to explain what is good in ART and what is the work of a Hack. The paragraph delineates the possible barriers of what ART can be.

The word Original cannot be overstressed in terms of discussing true ART, as but anything but an original creation is merely craftwork produced by scientific consideration of how the original was created in the first place. The primary point of any work of ART is not functional, it is to make a statement, an expression or in the case of deconstructional works-- the lack of either a statement, or an expression. The performing arts hold a special relationship to these rules as there is intent to faithfully reproduce a given work in the manner of craft, but the understanding exists that each performance is original and unique due to the variables involved (e.g. no two performances are exactly alike).

In the visual arts, because of the static nature, the application of the rules is more pronounced. This is also true of the literary arts, where each aspect of a written work may be scrutinized for level of originality. In writing the artist will write what they think or feel, or don't think or don't feel; whereas the hack writes either in a manner of what everyone else has written without originality, or chasing what is the popular form or topic of the time. The artist will rework one work over and over until it is a sparkling shining gem, whereas the hack will rewrite the same piece over and over again thinking it is a completely new work The main point being that the hacks will continue to be hacks until they strive for their original thoughts or emotions or the lack thereof.

In the pursuit of trying to become a published author, many novices fail to realize presentation is the key. When a person applies for a job directly with an employer, the employer has the advantage of being able to check references and meet with the person before any agreements are met. With writers, when work is submitted that work then becomes the only thing the publisher knows of you.

For the typical job interview, we would don our best business attire and polish our appearance to make a good first impression. When submitting work to a publisher, their first impression is your query or cover letter. Imagine trying to impress someone with a handwritten post it note stuck to the front of a handwritten collection of your work.

Under those circumstances would you take you seriously? No you wouldn't. The point of this question? DO YOUR HOMEWORK. If you desire to be published then do the research. Read submission guidelines. Find out what the publisher is looking for before you send any work. If you do not review this information you are wasting not only your time but the publishers as well.

Publishers will often tell you if you need to submit a query letter first or if you can send the entire work. If you the writer can't read far enough to submit as the publisher requested then how serious can you be in your pursuit for publication.

If you succeed at the query stage and your work then moves to the read pile on the publishers desk, the next important must have is a clean copy. Again if you expect to be taken seriously then do not submit a work that has not been spell checked and edited. The amount of effort you put into editing should not depend on the size of the publisher you are pursuing. You should treat a submission to large publishing house the same as submission to an online magazine.

Respect your audience. No one should ever struggle to read your work due to grammar or structure. If you know you have a weakness in the area of editing then seek help from another source. Be prepared to pay accordingly for the expertise you find. Do not think that you'll get free help so that you can publish the work and be paid for your effort. The best things in life are not always free. Your editor can make you into a desireable commodity.

If you love your art then work for it. Research, query, edit and polish. There a numerous resources available if you feel you need assistance to reach your goals and dreams. It's okay to admit weakness and seek help. If you can't be honest with you, then the publishers will be honest enough for both of you.

Poetry:

There’s a machine
In every rail station
Next to the Nescafe stall
Close to the dustbin
Full of garbage--
Uneaten food
Coffee cups
Newspapers
Sanitary napkins
Condoms—
With the stink of garbage
Climb on the podium of the machine
Insert a five rupee coin in the slot
Pop comes instant poem
Four lines of poetry
With a prediction for next twelve months.

Poetry that comes from blood
Can’t be demanded
It’s given unasked
Un solicited
It flows from my blood
It chooses where it should flow.

I watch the people passing
And see the river flow
How long I’m standing here
I really do not know

I hear the water splash
As it hurries on its way
To meet the great Atlantic
On this bright day in May

I’ve seen small boys grow to men
I’ve seen it over, and over again
Great is my knowledge and my will to survive
I’ve seen great hardship yet still I’m alive

My leaves start to grow, and my boughs start to tire
For many may years I got higher and higher
But my growth now is over, and I’m really so old
In the last hundred years I’m feeling the cold

Kids hang from my branches and laugh out so loud
They think I’ve no life, and yet I’m so proud
Although I can’t speak the wind makes me creak
They’ll cut me down soon, and make furniture from my teak.

Don’t you hate it
When you’re nauseated
From being sick in the mind
When all you can do is rewind,

All of your bad memories
All of your sad history
All of the things you want to forget
All the things you wish you hadn’t said

All of the hate inside your head
It consumes you and leaves you for dead
Dead as a person, dead in the soul
You have no choice but to lose control

The nausea, it leaves you empty inside
And in nothing to confide
All it leaves are tears
For your soul to be seared

I cry and I cry
And I hate the reason why
There’s nothing left in me
And the nausea is the reason that may be

I have no control over my emotions
They feel like internal explosions
The nausea, it will leave you in shame
In cold blood and in you to blame.

Think a thought that you thought you thought
Think yourself away
Think these thoughts that once were thought
That you want to think again
Think the thoughts you thought you thought
Though never had you thought at all
Think of those thoughts that had never been thought
Or so you think?
You though you thought they had never been thought
So you think these thoughts some more
One day you thought you hard that you think they had
been thought by someone you thought
The person you thought they were thought by thinks
you took their thoughts
You think of the person who thinks like you
Thought combine as they become two
Think you thought this person was through?
Thoughts discovered as panic uncovers
Do you wish to think this through?
You thought you thought you were the only one to think these
thoughts
To think that could be true?
Think the thought you thought you thought
Think them all the way through

Art:

Music:

I've been dying inside
I've been crying inside
I've been lying inside
I've been trying to hide

I've been racking my brain
I've been going insane
And though I've felt this pain
I knew we'd never remain--

(Chorus)
But it hurts anyway
It hurts anyway
Oh it hurts anyway
It hurts me every day (x2)

I wanted you to stay
I never know what to say
I think of you every day
But I know its better this way

(Bridge)
And now I don’t know who I am
And I don’t really give a damn
I tried to be your man
But it went just as I'd planned
And you will never understand
That I did the best that I can
And I don’t really give a damn
It went exactly as planned

It went exactly as planned--

(Chorus) (x2)
But it hurts anyway
It hurts anyway
Oh it hurts anyway
It hurts me every day