literature

closed minded fools
run the literature game
ink full fists,
generations of CVs,
editors, writers and
publicists sing
the same tired
tune

alleluia

new blood flows
down,
secret revolutionaries
sleep,
armies of clowns
snigger:
pure slaughter

creative lunch

inspiration waits tables for miracles.
what you know is what you know, the
rest is gossip. the rest is desire.

waiting by the front window
crouched down
naked, watching.
this is the most exciting moment in life.
other times,
sleepwalking bumping into sewers.

here we are discussing,
scribbling on toilet paper
creatives
degraded by
blank canvas "WOW SUGAR MAMA!"
screams a white van man
to a skinny black girl.
truth.

what I heard

I heard the Russians are coming
to buy the land you live on
then sell it to the Chinese
who in turn barter with the Arabs.

I heard the Russians, Chinese
and Arabs are splitting
up
the world
for themselves
and their friends
only.
you're not welcome.
that's right, English, German,
French, you're not welcome,
Italian, Dutch and Spanish,
you're not welcome. oh, don't
forget the dear new US of A:
you're not welcome.

their dagger eternal

they're walking tonight
they're shopping for Rolex
they're visiting nightclubs
they're popping the cork
they're popping a Chinese virgin
they're happily married
their children run surgeries
their children's children PHDs
their own a hotel or brothel
they have a little factory
they know good business
their smile tattooed across
they don't fart in public
they sip the finest wine
they snort grade A cocaine
they inherit your life and mine
they don't do compromise
they're walking this morning
they're looking to snack
they're happy with things
their dagger eternal