Let everyone experience, in awe
The subtle genius punching at these chords
Whose brevity is only overwhelmed
By overwhelming unintelligence.
To wit is fine, to wither, yours, more apt,
As fleeting as it is, its stain persists
And fogs the broken mirrors of my day.
What point did poetry become the medium
Of blighted conciousness with which the dumb
Lead blindness like a bellows to the hearth
With flippant, trash bin, faux-intelligence.
Has mediocrity a gravity?
Something pulls the loathesome to your voice,
And concentrates stupidity by gallon.
You’ve got them by the ears, now loose your chirp!
You’ve got them by the eyes, so add some flash?
You’ve got them coming back and digging in
Like dogs atop a concrete block for bones.
So piss your nothings, scream your blackened tones
In time there will be no more collars here.
You’ve gotten here, a flea, on shoulders less.
Illiterate corpses call your verse “a mess.”