This was made as part of a collaborative effort for a Showcase I put on in November, this was the media part of the art and performance show.

Poets can seduce
with big words like dystopia,
metaphors like
fern sword, fern
sword.
Aural body licking,
words talk dirty or clean,
deep like the best lover,
even if they are
singing to a wine glass
filled with dirty dishwater,
They are seducing you
simple red wheelbarrows,
ball turret gunners,
and dancing on daddy’s feet,
wipe the tears as the meaning hits,
or doesn’t. We don’t get it.
They are seducing you,
they get better looking as they read.
Average men and women
turn to perfumed demigods,
not gods, not goddesses,
not humans, not immortals,
half-breeds.
That is the power of performance.
Intoxicated by the
language,
The gaze shifts from
love to lust.
Away you poets!
Do not  speak to me
crafted words strung
like colored popcorn
on the poor man’s
tree dripping
tinsel, and bread made ornaments.
Vocabulary curled like the petal of the
deepest part of the red, red rose,
that is language.
Taste the muse, see the
spirit,
then set the poet free
to be men and women
who die like the rest of us.