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Steve Fitch - In Photos
02:40
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My maladusted white-trash next-door neighbor
has that same tattoo,
but somehow it’s supposed to look hip and
avant-garde on you.
You made it through four years of college, but
you’re not very smart.
In photos, be naked and covered in blood,
and get away with calling it “art.”
All of the guys you’d tried-on before the one
who’d fit your esthetic
were left to choose between hating your guts
or feeling so pathetic;
I, for one, consider you worth neither remorse
nor malice.
In photos, be naked with a cross up your cunt,
drinking goat’s blood from a chalice.
Ruin yourself in a social-media display
of rebellious descent,
with all the likes and the comments applauding
the wicked way Daddy’s Girl went
and the turns that she is taking while making
a such beautiful mess.
In photos, be naked and covered in feces,
‘cause it’s all you have left to express.
© 2016 Steve Fitch / My Music by Me Music (BMI)
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No one comes to prominence
without the force of myth,
and people only go as far
as the people they are with.
Shit floats to the surface,
but the media make it seem
as though only the best of milk
could make such fine brown cream.
Try to do it otherwise,
but the system can’t be bucked.
Can’t we now admit that
Bob Dylan really sucked?
Market forces which exploit
our desires and our fears
prompt us as to what is “good”
and to get in line with peers.
It could be called conditioning,
but it’s really much more subtle,
as though, all one’s life, it’s fed
by drip-feed up the butthole,
like slightest strokes on gonads,
as in slo-mo we’re all fucked.
Ain’t it time we all admit
Bob Dylan always sucked?
Visit Woody Guthrie
as he’s dying in his bed,
and have it documented
to inherit all his cred,
and steal a poet laureate’s name
that doesn’t sound Semitic,
and have a team of publicists
coaching every critic.
Fifty years ago, you shoulda
died beneath a truck,
but somehow, you’re still at it –
Bob Dylan, you still suck.
© 2016 Steve Fitch / My Music by Me Music (BMI)
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9. |
Stevitch - Rezo 2
15:00
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