Tag Archives: image

Beautiful Quiet Melody

There was this girl at school
Quiet Melody
was her name.

She used to hide in her hair.

Long and black it was
like a raven’s back
and she used it
as a curtain
so that nobody could see her.

When people addressed her
Melody would wave sheepishly
distantly
as though from another planet
and not say anything at all.

She had this favourite spot
on the floor
that she would stare at.

I often wondered
what she thought about
when she did.

You see,
she had this face
that could pierce your heart
it was just so beautiful.

Thinking back,
it was a real damn shame
that nobody
ever told her that.

Shit Painted Gold

Some people look great
but inside they’re as
dead as dried leaves or
an abandoned factory.

The immediate stench of their
absolute nothingness
can be bought at your
local Sears counter.

When you get too close
to the haircut
the cologne
burns the back of your throat
tasting like
plastic
pretentious
carcass.

And hey,
nice tan
here’s a prune.
Notice the resemblance?
Nah, course you don’t.
You don’t notice anything that’s not you.

They may flash you a disarming smile in return
etched to perfection by years of mirrored practise
but it merely acts as a freshly-painted billboard
welcoming you to an arid wasteland
of creams and oils and hours of self-pruning
of sickness and disease and death of the spirit
of a great empty place where there is little else but
meaningless chit-chatter so consistent and invasive
that it could drive a thinking man to leap
from a high-rise balcony
into the streets of stars below
because everybody demands Hollywood
these days it’s a sickness
a plague
a merciless wench with a ten iron.

Everybody’s a fucking celebrity.

But those
that strut around like peacocks
for no reason at all
do so with an undeserved
sense of accomplishment.

It just begs the question that you
will never receive a proper answer for:
Why go through all the trouble
hour after hour
day after day
to ensure that your shirt is still immaculately pressed
that your slacks are entirely lint-free
and every strand of hair is still in place
like it’s all that there is?

What had happened in your life
to end up placing upmost importance
in something so trivial?

You’re just feeding off of
what you’ve been fed
and would trade your soul
for corporate sponsorship
if you even knew where to look for it
and you’re a gorgeous piece of shit
and I’m a gorgeous piece of shit
and we’re all just collectively
one big commercial
at the end of our existential mire

but it’s people like you that deny the fact
that we all need to piss, shit, eat,
bleed and sometimes cry

So why care to the point
where it’s an insanity and a
disease?

You could ask them
but the main reason you would never
get the answer you’re looking for is because
as soon as they start talking
it makes you want to
turn on the vacuum cleaner
and sometimes
start up the blender too.