Telling of the Artist's Story

Telling of the Artist’s Story

Don’t give George your phone number, He’ll text you in the middle of the night

Drunk texting original spoken word poetry

Or his simple minded “Women are worthy of worship” gleeful talk of pussy

See, George once was married, he had no business letting these thoughts escape

George once had a woman to receive all this straight jive

A wife of contemplative reception, she understood me back when she was alive

Poetry in the spirit of drunkenness, moving twice in 2 months, uncertainty of instability

George needs to have a filter, the way an artist needs a muse

To refuse some of his drunkenness, bordering on abuse of our English Language

George has no real accountabilities accept to honor being an artist

What does an artist look like in 2025, under this administration

Lucky to be alive instead of permeant isolation because of public alienation

The artist is the outcast of a self-serving society,

Workdays, birthdays, separate selves with subject realities needing automatic experiences

George has no real human interaction with a way to acquiesce, assimilate, or mimic

The artist creates a world of story, loose and hairy, long and wiggly

Like a bald Shel Silverstein, like the artist is the loneliest human being,

The last real human being on earth, naked and free, a part of young people and shared realities

When you put your business in the hands of other artists

They hold you safe, artists will walk a mile in George’s shoes

When you put your business in the street

Gossiping people never tell your story straight

The artist lives his story each day creating as an artist is storytelling

The magikal myth working with storytone, the art is love, peace sign symbol of the dove

Getting the story told right in the drunken mumblings of the night

Telling of the Artist’s Story