Wednesday, September 16, 2009

A National Artist Award Nominee Secretly To The Award Winner

I am, like you, awash in recurrent pride and insecurities,
like you, coopted by industries to present his tawdry resume
and account executive appeal, like you, an enigma and shit
upon this earth that only wants to pretend life's so pretty.
I am, like you, a corruptible artisan, willing to ass-bend
for one's fingering of my soul with the books' aesthetics,
patrons that we are to our taste that we dream like brooks.

Upon this Martian caliber of mine, I shoot a mirror's smile
with alacrity, uniform praise being your ideal of a proper
friendship, lordship that you are, avatar to your ego's soul,
filigreed film of a flatulent fornicator of fiefdoms, Kantian
diminuendo criticality, my astuteness asunder, leavened
bread to your fame. Hunger, the plumbing for restless arts,
carves out sibilance of acquaintances, rascals and pederasts,
lifelines in aristocrats, and I sense abominable courtesies.
I am, like you, awash in recurrent pride and insecurities.

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