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Scandalous cadavers mimicTheir depleting surfaces Cussing them emotionally for theirRelentless patterns of boredom"Revolution " It screams "Fight these jagged eyes,that pierce these fads"The art of creating Has lost it's judgement It seems to have two left feet With no original point of originThey recycle the same ideas &Try to pass them as newWith gemmed masks That glitter dimHoping to blend inSimple souls that rely on drugsFor that quantum leapJust to pollute the freshness of their mindsFor premature greatnessUntil they regurgitate mentallyTransiently & motionlessly hoverTracing with passion & bright colorsSharing the same plain thoughts &Midnight loversGrey streets mapNeon signs that read"Come in tonight & be discovered"Art in it's simplest formKeeps out a lurking eyeAround abstract paranoiaBegging for a savior of new talentsIn the golden streets of California
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