Art Galleries of Life & Death

Slaughter the child that vile pest
That does cause such confusion and strife
String up the bloody carcass as meat posing on a hook
For flaccid intellectuals to perversely ponder
Through the art galleries of life and death.
Watch as ghastly bores of bohemian pretension
Bend and cower around a lonely penis standing
Erect upon a plinth, a monument of pleasure
Sharpened to an orgasmic halt.
Listen to them spew soliloquies of dribble
As if Shakespeare were sat upon their shoulder
Passing words and imagery through the eye
Of a needle into a vein standing proud.
See them seething with a most delightful deviance
Of such that lures a boy to a misty moor
To sit for eternity in a museum, a waxwork dummy,
An effigy of ecstatic evil that provokes howls of protest
- “This is so steeped in depravity, I love it!”
- “You heinous fiend, you will hang upon my wall!”
And oh how they laugh and applaud
This great cabaret of deceit
As I wonder how I am supposed to feel
And kill myself on pure impulse
A moment of glorious inspiration like a
Snow blind flash before the eyes
Or whispering into my own bloodied ear.
Oh God have mercy, I meant no true measure of harm
Merely contributing
To culture in my own baneful way
Lacerations of vast brushstrokes
As I beat the vile pest upon the canvas
I’m afraid you simply didn’t get the joke.