Them

Their work,
Such color,
There is a feeling and truth to be found in the lie of their art.
Theirs is a symphony which is robust and purple and fills the spaces between the eyes with cracks of lightning across empty grey matter.

Mine.
Utility.
Function.
It is squares and scaffolds which support the lifeless and grotesque facade of a totalitarian edifice.
It is the base and despicable act of human building.

Theirs is the beauty of creation,
Theirs is the experience of feeling.

You Are Special

A pile of slate bricks accumulates amidst a landscape which is barren and infinite,
Save for the identical collections of bland mass,
Which rains down in odd intervals.
Oh!
Exclaims one passer-by,
What a unique arrangement of pieces!
Truly the work of a visionary!
The pedestrian moves on sparing little further thought,
Their eyes an identical hue to the wasteland all about.

Don't Wake Daddy

Perfect and straight tall alabaster planks
envelope a stage made of cold beige tones,
The matinee remains as ever the same,
A perfectly choreographed dance routine
of dagger-smiles in the key of a teapot whistle,
Carried out by acquaintances over plates of boiled meat.

Short Collection

So horny and hungry,
And thirsty and dumb,
Hungry hands grope blindly,
Forever outward.

Scratch on paper,
Little rubbing noise,
Felt tips and vapors,
Make poets of these boys.

Learn to swim,
Waste of skin,
Quite a caper,
On the paper,
Worthless little,
Piece of shit he'll,
Suck you dry and,
Make you cry.

What does "killing me" sound like?
Ah ah-ha,
Boom boom,
Tap tap,
Doom doom ah ah-ha,
E-ha-e-ha e.
Maybe a ballpoint would make it sound better.

Writing

Just enough thought for four or so lines,
Beyond becomes manic disorganized chaos,
Where meter expires and ceases to rhyme,
And flaws become bigger without any payoff,
Look now he fumbles his words turn to mumbles,
The stanzas they change as he struggles for air,
His lines are a jungle of phrases in jumbles,
He hasn't a thought and you haven't a care.

Posting About Posting

Feeling bitter go to Twitter,
Shout it out where no one cares,
Spit your bile for a while,
Hope to get your Facebook shares,
Friend list fatter doesn't matter,
Bigger basement empty attic,
Eat some shit you fucking twit,
And die alone inside your static.

Audience

Can't understand,
Whose voice speaks these words,
Can't understand,
What these words even stand for,
Can't understand,
Don't I make you happy?
Can't understand,
Who is talking right now?
Can't understand,
Do I need to be concerned?
No,
Everything is fine,
Everything is fine.