Beautiful & Meaningless

by Poetry

were I an artist
               I’d do something beautiful
& meaningless

were I a painter
& could distend light
across empty skies
I would paint the bodies of Christ
as they rolled in their eternal
loves & agonies
& I would paint the bodies & the pains
of all men
& all women too
who suffered
with bent iron
growing through their wrists
like lilies
arising from the earth

were I a worker of ash
               I would trace your body
in white chalk
on the black dress
you don’t wear anymore

were I able to transcribe more than my own pain
I would write about you
& the way you smile
when you pretend to sleep
or how you curl
around your wine
as though I was a thief
& not a worshipper at all

were I able
I’d turn up ugly
& disguised to my own exhibits
& loudly proclaim the artist’s failures
& demand to see the manager
call the artist a goddamned whore
a sell-out
until security threw me out
with free spirits inside me
to replace the spirit of art
I left on some
bathroom floor
or other

Free eBooks

poetry
poetry
modern poetry

Are You Happy?

Whenever I think of happiness, I’m filled with this kind of hopelessness. I can’t think of a single time when I have experienced the joy that I’ve read about – the kind of elation that spits fire through the veins. And that is all I’ve ever wanted. I’m not interested...

Alive

Do your computers come to life when you sleep? Do the spectres of the dead inhabit the space between the wires; are souls just electricity – crackling along the veins and spinning around the bones? Do they flicker through the internet, in silent servers a world away;...

Beautiful & Meaningless

were I a painter
& could distend light
across empty skies
I would paint the bodies of Christ
as they rolled in their eternal
loves & agonies

Moirai

instead of simply grazing
the surface of your breasts in desperation
& could overcome their wild passions
for the logic & mathematics of poetry
or the campaign of ecstasy I execute
as Thanatos delivering your body