Shankicide: Shivving with Death Poetry

Shankanalia10When 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.

Follow @shankanalia on Twitter for daily suffering.

Shankanalia – Shankicide: Shivving with Death Poetry

Alpha Cube
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,
Say hi,
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.
Contain yourself.

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?
Swap?
Oh, they’re the same.
Stupid game,
Let’s just blame.

Your Shoes Don’t Fit
Fuck you-
Your thoughts,
Your feelings;
You hurt mine.
Lying
Evil
Cunt.
If I had your skin to wear
I’d burn it.
Don’t care how you feel:
Fuck you.

With Us, It’s Personal
Don’t send me worthless shit.
Hacked?
Boo hoo,
Face-sadness.
Fix your password,
Get a life.
Do they sell knives?
Buy one;
Bury it in you.

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