From a distance
A thin layer of paint
Keeps a fantastic
Tradition alive
The private stalls
That still allow
Private business
The bliss of stink
And judgeless release
Velcro eyebrows
Under aged
The art of the paint
The pointless canvas
Beatles moving
slowly across
The mountain side
The pressure in rocks
The faked profundity
Pies pies pies
Jack and Jill go up
And up and up and up
No time to tumble
No time to fall
Up up up
Okay
Maybe the odd public spat
At the train station
But that’s it
At this point you go down
You could seriously hurt something
Beak a hip
Some bullshit like that
No health insurance
Who’s got time for that
It’s all uphill from here kid.
Let’s learn to love it
(This poem was originally recited on November 28, at Glasgow Art School in Glasgow, Scotland)
Schwervon! 