I’m an artist, and my work,
for want of a better word,
is worth little to most,
I thought I was toast.
then along came the bitman,
that alluring addiction,
of stake proof,
off my roof.
that fossil freeish,
(not quite yettish)
the smug abdication,
“..I’m superhuman!.”
comforted by superstition,
“..science, don’t be daft..”,
“..u go up ur own 🍆..”
“..like watching television?.”
can the value of a poem written digitally,
be measured in nft-utility?
what if the deadly screenshot,
was worth one-ETH per crackpot?
a mumble in the jungle,
a MATIC fumble,
really nifty,
wallet swifty,
cuddly undead,
little bunkbed,
scared sunshine,
like a porcupine,
with steel-like surpine.
so in mocking my way,
I fail to support anyone,
“..dumb one..”
we need to have hope,
“..from now on my n(u)fties..”
“..will make your toes go fl(i)fties..”
“..your nose smell g(u)lfties..”
“..and may your eyes close t(i)ftlies..”
hoping that humanity,
isn’t growing in capacity,
for owing in so much morality,
“..the audacity!.”
“..telling us old’uns we’re shit..”
“..while we shit where we sit..”
“..stupid old git..”
but we still love them,
they’re family, we know them,
we may be them one day,
when all we had’s gone away.
left with our minds,
nothing else to find,
our thoughts dissolve away,
to never return to that day,
just a memory,
long lost fantasy,
myths of reality.
reality lost,
love labours tossed,
prefer the thirty second fame blob,
the attention absorbing media hog.
promote this, promote crap,
go through escrow,
bollocks to that!
this ain’t a fake voice,
this is my real face,
an angry autistic,
not a pacifist makeshift.
the almost elder goth rocker,
the old one with the tiktoker.
those shadows are back in the corner,
don’t look, fairies dancing,
prancing in the eco dust,
antennas pointing menacing..
mischief wanting most,
Fae, gods, whatever,
dark entities from the other,
tulpa rainstorms claim virgin,
the joy is a given,
never taken,
just watch more closely,
for shadows that cling mostly..
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