It has been a long time since I have published anything that could be considered ‘Creative writing’. Mostly, if and when I do write, this will take the form of short fiction and will most likely, never see the light of day…
However, after looking over some of my private, collected poetry-sub-conscious-direct-to-video ramblings I decided to have a bash at putting something back out there. Using only micro-edits and, in attempt to be a little more honest with my writing, I have kept my stupid over processed symbolism to the leanest it has been for, well, possibly ever?!
Let’s see how it goes…
Our gods are wearing sneakers
that bleed into their pictures,
shaking autopsy reports and legacy prescriptions.
Their names are muddied, printed over and over
until syllables lose their senses –
stare blank at news reports and
tabloid journo-porno-kings tapping stories to keep the crowds smiling.
Re-released and re-packaged,
feather stamped and viewed through an ironic lense.
“Our messages have been grifted and silk screened
onto desk covers, burger and chips, wrappers and
rapping paper super starlets –
bleached out and disaffected”
You can buy them now, available on Itunes…
I tune in and out of radio babble,
slipping through tangles of terminology
I loosely grasp –
feeling under threat and disconnected.
My brain itches. Eyes narrow,
weigh heavy and sleepy,
at my desk I curse their twitter follower feed discussions –
who IS following who, and who cares??
We stumble from disco to disco
fumbling encounters with passive peoples in doorways,
stating our ‘Thank you’s’ as we go –
holding applause to our stage clothes and hiding in cellars.
Rages limp on flashing glimpses of false teeth
and smiles I swear I’ve seen before,
I can’t place it, but can’t forget either.
Feel dysphoric and disjointed
like an imposter.