POETRY PORN: [TALK TO ME, NOT FRANK]

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TALK TO ME NOT FRANK

I don’t need your medication
I won’t feed your generation
I won’t begin to join your altered state and breed your education

Coz I’m free

I will not feast on your greens
Peas and skills and peppers would build a better nation of teens.

Broccoli lobotomy we have a social dichotomy when the bottom fee frees only a freezer philosophy

Frozen foods and frozen brains

Frozen minds and chocolate stains sustaining shaming kilo gaining hello magazine defaming name games.

Same sames.

Frame entire classes,
food controlling prices lame pains.

Fruit taxing Saint James.

The first testament was a cunt
To call it blunt is an injustice
More mashed than mash potato
gravy hatred breeding just kids

Kids aren’t just kids
Kids are hungry staves with open lids
Starving charming gorgeous freedom farming peaceful police disarming pieces of music.

Until you give your children arms. Whether it’s guns or garms or cakes your sounding all the alarms. Coz then your breeding dogs.

And your baby becomes a pet.
Their essential potential has been cut off when you neutered them at the vet of your own kitchen.

Knives not needed for your incision.

The discount coupons in the daily mail made your decision.

When your upbringing is beige
And satiated with lies
Disguised as cotton wool and oven chips a comfortable prize
It’s easy to give up
To live up to the standards they’ve set
To get fucked on the weekend and spend your weeks at a desk with your face glued to the screen of the biggest machine you’ve ever not seen and reproduce a 2×4 with an exterior sheen.

Well your sheen is weak. And your week is bleak and filled with sheep all jumping over fences made of crew knit sweaters all on fleek.

And yet I’m the freak.

The carrot tarot bleeding leak
Of honest forest gateau chic a seventh step reading week.

I’m so tired and frustrated
I’m over masturbated waiting for comrades not bomb raids the shades of grey are one way to deceive a brother.

Well I’m not deceiving another aspect of my self I have no guise of material wealth.

Just my lyrical self. A pen on paper wealth of stealth a middle class raised white boy who fell off the kitchen shelf.

So when they tried to castrate me I was nowhere to be seen I was busy scratching fag into the dulcet varnished gleem of a state school piano. The books they had were overshadowed by stupid defeated preachers teaching shooting with poorly aimed arrows.

The silly cunts education stunts
Stunted my growth for months.

Years of therapists and pills and institutional hugs.

Bunch of mugs

I’d rather drink from a Grail.

Because im better now and books I read and love I hail.

Not your stubborn jail.
Wearing uniformic chain mail.
I’m free from you so crawl in salt you slimey fucking hate snail.

I’m more than this. The world owes us nothing I’m sure of this
But if my heads not wrong I know I’ve got a lot more in store than this.

My archive is ripe
My will to fight is feeling right
It’s not a sorry plight and at the end of the night

When you’re all hungover
I’m stroking my well rested sober boner
My bipolar is famous and at the moment I’m a loner but you just watch your kids
Coz to me they will come
when my writing is flowing and they’re failed by their mums
Coz queers and flids have rights
It’s all a game in this life.
So I refuse to see the diamond dogs
Remain in their strife which you created
Through your difference of hatred
Your donut nomming Prozac glomming life is mistaked.

So I lay down the stakes, my breaks are released.

And with this knowledge we come forth and release the freaks!!

Written by Ted Rogers “Artpornblog”

All Written content copyright of Ted Rogers “Artpornblog”

xXx

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