| Four Poems Jason Van Blaricom |
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A Rare Occurrence What happens when you try to be an artist When you stop trying to make things for yourself But start trying to make money Your everyday sentences start to cadence annoyingly There is too much rhyming in everything you say And every forced piece of work turns up shit Why be like them? Remember your purpose is to insult. Remember? You write because it's the only way to get back at the stupid Make money (fucking one day maybe) and still keep your self-respect | Poetry is for mocking the ignorant and their petty distractions Their pathetic ideas that art is for talking about the everyday bullshit To remind them it's a philosophical instrument, not a wall hanging It's not to be loved, it should make you angry You're insulted and throw it down as if it weren't really talking about you, man It's disturbing, you can't get it out of your mind and are pissed you had to pick up the damn thing And now you have to read it again because it makes so much sense you don't get it This time you concede he's not completely full of shit It's upsetting and goes against everything you believe in  | |||
