I speak the truth

when it comes

to the treachery

  of images.

All artists do so

in their constructive lies,

negative though it sounds

the opposite is true.

Self perpetuation on the

division of the dialoque.

Books upon books

missing from invisible

shelves, and priorities.

The angel headed hipsters

are back and they are

ruining the neighborhood,

as always.

Acute history,

that is all you are

to me and my kind.

A humble living joke.

Be good boys and girls,

don’t take it so personally,

it’s all in good fun.

They said the same

of tortured elephants

and dancing bears.

I, but a child am I?

We, but children are we?

We don’t understand,

we must be patient.

Meanwhile make my shoes

and my bras

and charge the idiots

enough to hide the slaves.

Orange suits and

red finger tips from

the sewing needle,

pennies on the hour

if anything,

be good, you know

the rules by now.

How long I say?

How long must we

enable feeble intrege?

Willful cultural nearsightedness

and blatant willful

ignorance,

in an era of literal

free information.

Why is scrutiny not

inherent in national

dialoque?

Insult is not scrutiny,

it’s the behavior of a child

who did not here the word 

no.

The descending beat

and rhythm keeps

me working again,

my heart stays beating

and so shall life

carry on.

Surrender is not for me,

and let it stop you 

not,

for like me,

so shall life

carry on. 

3/21/16