give me something good to read

I used to think that anyone could write anything great
I never thought that it had to do with anything in particular.
as I am older,
I look at what people younger than me write
and also what people older than me write.

it seems that the younger generations are writing
about love lost that somehow
was horribly abusive

older folks
older than me I should say
seem to write in a safety
that I find both challenging and disgusting.
they speak of nothing by using large words.
painting a picture of utter nothingness
that might roll well off the tongue.

I picked up some poetry books
read through them
and it sounds like some
high school angst bullshit.

I picked up a book from a writer
who’s career has spanned four decades
and it’s soft.
he wasn’t always soft
but this was trite pap.

where the fuck is all the danger?
where is the realism in this escapism?
there is nothing!

we live in a society
where everyone has to have the same
or they are
this is ludicrous and complete crap

the few are the loudest
and the loudest are the fascists
they are the ones who scare everyone
into thinking the same
doing the same
saying the same
being the same.

this is all shit

give me danger
give me blood
give me love
give me fucking
give me murder
give me depression
give me suicide

take these victims away
throw them into a burning vat
of self pity and shit

we need to take the word
take these typed pages
by the balls and kill them
beat the masses with our written words
and let their souls rise from the ashes
of crap and mediocrity
like a phoenix made out of feces and bone.

fucking hell,
i just want something good to read.

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