Site icon Arnav Sibal

#32 Stalk a Writer After Midnight

As Is What Was is a collection of poems created with no thought at all. None. There is no control over grammar, sound, rhythm, idea, or anything really. Why? I thought it would be fun. Is it insane? Absolutely.


Caffeine – not hit

The old poets only sing to dead waters

While the new ones rack up gold for the brothels

There was not a care left for the fabric of wisdom or words

Or sounds or frantic ecstatic frays

But that is not the cash cow these days

In fact, the cash cow is everythingng but the cow

And you can have all but the beef

Unless you’d prefer to be deemed a terrorist

Then have the infamy your way

They’ll grate on for ages

And brand their ambassadorial talents

With the weights of shit so high

You could build a magnificent fortress

And call it a world wonder

Yeah. That’s how things are these days

If you want to know what real waste is

You’ll have to stalk a writer hafter midnight

Let them slip and slide down the alleyways

Till they’ve got blisters from their tongues to their feet

No laughter pounces off the wall anymore

And no filth is adorned with shiny trinkets

The rebellious revellers are prancing like demons

And that’s all too well for them

They’ll just pay the entry fee and get on with it

And you said you’d like to famous?

Get the fuck out of here.

You don’t know what the underground is

Till you’ve left it behind

Virtues have no place here

Wipe your feet on the doormat

get disinfected

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