The art of unlocking one’s most restrained and repressed emotions before manipulating them for aesthetic purposes in a feeble, half-ass attempt, to get into some college freshman’s panties.
Poetry is such bullshit,
Nothing truly profound could ever be put on paper.
Self-awareness? Who needs it!
All I ever do is end up crying anyway.
It's like the dehydration of an emotional masochist;
Invisible pain, evaporating joy.
Someone oughta build a dam on my stream of consciousness,
But where then would all the fish go to spawn?
Why does Jesus ask for so much faith?
Where is Allah’s justice?
Yahweh hasn’t written a book in two millennia.
There’s too much order in the chaos.
My eyesight is failing; I fear I may soon go blind.
Not that there’s much worth seeing anyway.
The most belligerent expression of political, spiritual or emotional conception known to man; art is literally transforming one's most inflamed personal sentiments and perceptions into a tangible creation, designed for no other purpose then the architect's own personal satisfaction. Anything else is a marketing scheme.
A particular genre of popular music which provides the listener with a symphonic experience that is on a par with having a stranger masturbate into one’s eardrum. This includes a throbbing, repetitive rhythm, or “beat” - which is equivalent to the motion of a hand running up and down the length of a male’s phallus - while simultaneously listening to some horny high school dropout rhyming and rambling off about his desire to “knock boots” with the listener, while concurrently threatening to “bust a cap in your ass” if the audience member refuses to respect his “slim shady.” To listen to rap music is essentially to be raped in the ear.