//

beatnik interrogation seeking meaning in motorcycle metaphors 

licking his lips as he professes his two-wheeled infatuation revelation. 

 

multi-choice question

a) poet 

b) song & dance man

multi-layered answers 

     are too esoteric for the thin pencil men 

who expect black & white answers to their prods into creative endeavors.

 

departmentalising art by genre to first into disciplined folders or boxes  

for laymen minds to come to grips with the understanding

   - two-thousand years have past 

yet we still debate & contemplate the crucified parables

trying to dive into the text & emerge with divine interpretations.

 

    {polaroid photo op 

          a fair exchange

                         at this rate} 

 

   // ii //

mister jones dares to ask about corporate agendas

water on the prophet's back as he ducks and counters 

with a crack at panty banter to packed comic appreciation.

 

rate the covers under Donovon's duvets & of a best lady friend 

never mind the otherworldly guitar solo transcendence of that poetry.

 

missus jones attempts a stab the Cathy Newman 'so you're saying' jab

questioning the implied & falsified disconnect bandwagon 

before her husband claims that grey haired age needs labels to see

sensationalism sells and pot stirrers know this well 

in their demands for hypotheticals they're fed to the lions

{'if you laugh loud enough, a funeral can digress into a circus'}.   

 

   // iiii //

for an artist nostalgia is a chain 

& fame is a cage 

 

wild horses seek open plains 

one trick ponies laze in the shade

 

mister jones you see work in terms of dollars & cents

masking the festering fetish & fantasy of fame which you crave -

- yet an accliam which your name will never entertain

     your games of five-year plans & ambition blueprint maps

are more hypotheticals to which your hair greased head is chained.

 

    {you complain about the length of my poetry}

 while asking about my plans to move into tv & film 

                 the pity to me is the state of your creativity 

                                                  shallow & shadowed by depravity.

mister jones let me explain irony 

       your question & expectation about the reality pf my writing 

              is a twist in your fate

'out there' is a badge I wear in you freedom 

              unshackled the societal suits or rules

& the metaphor which you question is dressed like your reflection.

 

   /// iv ///

mister jones I'm sick of your twisted words and defamation due to your intellectual & creative limitations. 

 

juggling definitions & rearranging preconveied perceptions 

in verbiage gymnastics [IS WHAT I DO] & may touch a soft spot -

   {I suggest a dictionary or engaging in conversation 

before vomiting ignorant statements laced with lamented intentions}    

 

state has a place in the field place

while time of day is of little significance in my way. 

 

conscious mitten edits might have relevance because current minds aren't ready for the free flow subconscious writing bled from the universe 

and dressed in yesterday's relevance I seek to find balance

 

there have never been stars in my eyes

instead I switched off the spotlight shining on my face

pinning an icon beacon onto my back is a burden which my slight shoulders 

are unable to carry or sustain.