Saturday, October 09, 2010

paint

paint

art therapy
the fuckers bill you at your bedside
to use cheap paint on paper plates.
it’s a little bit of woodstock
seratonin inhibitors and an anagram about life,
but this time there’s no going home.

art is a stranger to me now.
art is politic’s bitch


on public transportation on neat little plaques
are the most generic phrases ever printed,
where the word’s are given equal play to the author’s race,
and this is somehow not disgusting?

Oh the symphony, the symphony,
who’s drunk enough to go with me?

public statuary;
the recently expelled mentally ill...
it’s beautiful in this sad, sad rain.

that thick ankled bitch is an art major,
but bitch, I’m a general!

we fucked up, yup.
I saw a kid downtown tazed and handcuffed with little zip ties.
two officers subdued him while another used generic calming phrases.
in the eyes of that youthful rage i see he’s gonna burn the shit down when he can
and i’m gonna lend him the gas can.

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