Glorious Shit

Another Dream-
You can make it;
Pass through shit
To welcome the divine.

********************

What kind of mind is this?
What kind of perversion?
You don't make much sense to me,
You don't make much sense to them-
You don't make much sense.

Return to painting flowers,
Name flowers flowers,
Name darkness strangeness,
Name genius a vile trait.

We cannot decipher you...
Bend down a little.
Everyone needs their audience-
Who are you to dispute?
Who is it you're talking to?
It can't be to yourself!

Alright. Now...
Everything is illuminated!
(I can write my glossary
Of horror and neglect.)

Do I love you?
Of course I love you,
Nobody else still cares
About the little things,
Such as your senseless self.

(Yes, I'll make everything clear,
The way you want me to.)

Let's speak a new language,
Let's call man the Head,
The alphabet into the globe-
The stud of universe.

(Of course we are the center,
Can't you see?)

Now
Strip.

Stop laughing,
Stop writing-
Stop mocking me!

You are a brilliant little brat,
A ravaging cacophony.
Our instructional order
Of highest aesthetics
Will not put up with this!

Stop laughing I said!
Stop laughing I said!
Stop laughing I said!
Oh, god, this isn't it!
Can this be Art?

Stop laughing I said!
Stop laughing I said!
Stop laughing I said!
Stop ridiculing me!

****************

Another dream.
Passing through
Glorious shit.
I don't belong in here,
And I am proud of this.