Art

I was weaned on the Beatles,

cut my teeth on the rolling stones,

had my ears opened by Bob Dylan and

my mind exploded by Jimi Hendrix

but it was

Lydon and Strummer

who woke me to

anger,

social unrest

and being honest

with myself.

drugs and booze were fun,

not great tools for creativity.

lost days and weekends, months and years,

decades even.

what a trip,

what a stupidity,

what as waste.

the dead pile up in their stacks

like a woodpile waiting for the flame.

each corpse

washed in its blood of the lamb

by those

too enamoured by stupidity

to see past romantic myths.

dead is dead,

no matter how you cut it,

with a cocaine and heroin chaser,

or with bourbon and beer.

creativity isn't some great lifestyle saga

or a means to an end.

its who you are and what you do

that matters.

stop talking about art

and fucking do.

stop telling everybody what's right and wrong

and fucking do

stop waiting around for art to happen to you

and fucking do.