10 march 2012
Hurt Feelings Aside,
stupid audiences are no worse than
boring poets,boring musicians, boring artists
boring philosophers.
If the world is a stage,
the audience: (you) amoral nymphs
gorging off the sangría
pouring out of my wrists.
I am a prostitiute.
We´ll clank our glasses together
and taste smooth full-bodied delusion,
lay the cornerstone the next eleven steps
are bulit upon.
Eternal life Moral enlightenmnet
all crocks one in the same,
but you will still fade away
like blood thirsty citizens
swayed to and fro with the prose
of sweet idiots like me.
I am no vanguard
nor should you pat yourselves on the back
but digress
I,
because
that cute guy in the corner checking you out
is really saying
"She have wide hips, she give many babies".
that cute girl smiliing and tussling her hair
is really saying
"He have broad shoulders, he hunt many antelope".
and
all I really want is a spear to kill things with,
marking my territory on the walls with out
getting arrested, scratch my balls in public,
naked like pre-historic man.
and
six months from now you will love this poem
on a different night, in a different bar, no different from this
swathing into another more pretentious than the next
cursed by sirens singing on the rocks
about cusps, futures, selfish revolutions
taking vacations to the margins
with that so typical
Wicker Park mentality.