People, places and things
have become things we collect
things replace people
and it has the wrong effect
things, places, things
has the wrong ring
- its clearly incorrect -
people aren't objects despite our dialect
nor merely nouns now to be subject
at least I object
we're both Proper and imperfect
both Collective and dissected
both Abstracted and connected
More than nouns we are the now
thats what I think anyhow

look at all the Leonard Cohens writing poems
filling their prose with death morose
this isn't a poem for your pleasure
x simply marks there IS a treasure

Staring across the bar, it was love at first sight
- eyes so wide- I think I gave her a fright
She thought it was a *** look
thought she could read me like a textbook
wary of my advance
refusing me a chance
avoiding my glance
I put down my glass
and,
in a stance
weakened by my lovestruck trance,
simply asked for a dance

Does the true artist run out of paint before pain?

one for each time I never said I loved you

This resident hedonist
is feeding false promises, premises,
had precedents
lacks presence
get off our premises president
our countries bloodied and blemished
supposed genius turned menace
made a promising entrance
now with vehemence, menaces
subverts his messages, sentences
burn our nemesis' edifice
don't hide in the crevices
its prescience

so we must discuss
why this lust and thrusts
weren't just for us

saw your flush and smelled his musk
now this tusk is stuck deep in my guts
Our trust is rusting
I'm just adjusting
injustice gusting
injustice huffing an puffing
don't mean to be brusque
but we are dust