All I want to do is make poetry famous,
all want to do is burn my initials into the sun,
all i want to do is read poetry from the middle of a
burning building standing in the fast lane of the
Empire State Building,
the literary world sucks dead dog dick.

I'd rather be Richard Speck than Manda Johnson,
I'd rather ride a rocketship to hell
than a ride in my mum's fuckin car to penang,
I'd rather sell arms to the Martians,
then wait sullenly for a letter from some diseased clown with a
three- piece mind telling me that I've won a
bullet-proof pair of rose coloure glasses
for my poem "Autumn in the Spring."

I want to be hated by everyone who teaches for a living,
i want people to hear my poetry and get headaches,
I want people to hear my poetry and vomit,
I want people to hear my poetry and weep,scream,disappear,start bleeding,
eat their television sets,beat each other to death with
swords and go out and get righteously drunk on
someone else's money.

this aint no party, this aint no disco,
this aint foolin'a grab-bag of
clever wordplay and sensitive thoughts and gracious theories about
how many ambiguities can dance on the head of a machine gun,
this aint no gentle evening over cappuccino and bullshit,
this aint no life-affirming.

our days have meaning as we watch the flowers breath through our souls and
fall desperately in love,
this aint no letter press,hand me down,
wimpy beatnik festival of bitching about the broken rainbow,
it is a carnival of dread,
it is a savage sideshow,
about to move to the main arena it is terror and wild beauty,
walking hand in hand down a bombed out road,
as missiles scream,while a sky of colour of arterial blood,
blinks on and off like the lights on broadway,
after the last junkies' died of AIDS.

i come not to bury poetry, but to blow it up,
not a dandle on my knee like a retarded child
with beautiful eyes but,
throw it off a cliff into icy seas and see if the motherfucker can
swim for its life,
because love is an excellent thing surely we need it, but,my friends.....
there is so much to hate these days that hatred is just love with a chip on its shoulder
a chip as big a the Ritz, and heavier than
all the bills i never pay because they're after us,
they're selling radioactive charm bracelets,
and breakfast cereals that lower ure IQ by 50 points per mouthful.

we got politicians who think starting World War III
would be a good career move,
we got beautiful men & women with eyes like wet stones peering out at us from pages of
glossy magazines,
promising that they'll fuck us till we're begging them to stop,
if we'll just buy one of these beautiful switchblade knives,
I've got mine.

Something I wrote not too long ago. (: