When does artistic expression become threatening? Presumably it’s as soon as we don’t like it. The most exciting response a person can have to art is when they feel it is about themselves. That doesn’t mean it is about them of course, they just think it is. Does that belief mean anything? Inasmuch as we hope to affect others with our art, whatever form it takes, then yeah I suppose that belief does mean something.
I’d be excited if someone read these poems and thought “gosh, I’m such a burden on the emotions and actions of others that yes, this exactly describes how I must make others feel”. Then they would be better people than I’d usually give them credit for.
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Shankanalia – Shankicide: Shivving with Death Poetry
You make me want to kill things,
Hunt you through the woods
Or cubicle maze.
Pursue you with knives and rulers,
Measure you out,
Cut you down.
The Time Traveller’s Spite
Imagine how you could undo the past
By travelling through time:
Find your father,
Kill him before he inseminates
Your mum with his fate.
Effervescent with Emotional Bubbles
I see you struggle with control,
The passion bursting from your seams.
Just remember what we did to Jesus:
Nailed him to a fucking cross.
Diseases of The Mind
Just ‘cos you’re a fucking prick
Don’t imagine you’ll make me care
Beyond the irritation that you cause
With your gangrenous management infection
Not A Blame Culture
A problem shared
Is a problem doubled.
Double or nothing.
Do you want my half?
Oh, they’re the same.
Let’s just blame.
Your Shoes Don’t Fit
You hurt mine.
If I had your skin to wear
I’d burn it.
Don’t care how you feel:
With Us, It’s Personal
Don’t send me worthless shit.
Fix your password,
Get a life.
Do they sell knives?
Bury it in you.