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Art Barber


Staunton, VA, US

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The Cradle Dies


Art Barber

I want to kiss you somewhere
other than the lips,
kiss you in some vulgar spot,
where midnight lays,
where moist droplets settle on red petals,
where time dances out of sync
and flows slowly with emotion.

I want to kiss you somplace divine,
bless my lips with your shadows
or blend them with your curves,

set you in my mind
as behind glass,
a precious gem of creation,
so that I can stare at you and be
intoxicated with your perfection.



Art Barber

I am left out in the cold winds.

I am a beaten dog thrown to the matt.

Immense saddness crouches,
like a spider
to tangle my heart in its web.

The divine leaves it's footprints
only to show that it has abandoned me.

Oh, City of Apes!


Art Barber

You are far too manly.
Your testosterone rituals
are too romantic.

Shit smears accross
stall doors like kisses.
Do they annoint your holy land?

Cherishable grunts and hollers
and misused obsenities,
they are flowers in this garden of fools.
Oh poor me to be so clean and intelligent.
I so wish I had your happiness.

If happiness is bliss,
Fuck nirvana!

To Parents


Art Barber

I scar myself with this smile.
This costume is wearing too thin,
and you can now see my pale humanity.

I have nodded to your rules.
I tried to look made in your image
but face it, you are no god.
I must break open.
I must shatter.

I split into a million pieces
the sharp shards cutting into my bondage,
releasing the straps that held me to you.
And now alone and naked I must repiece
my broken world.
Who am I?

I am a newborn shadow of my memories,
taking them to new places,
burning the white flag that you abused.
I will fight my middle class curse.
I will not grow comfortable in mediocrity.



Art Barber

I am made of you:

black white yellow red
lust gluttony sloth envy anger pride greed
cunts and cocks
lifting your voices to the winds
reclaiming yourself from your gods.

We rejoice on eachother
with kisses and loud orgasmic moans
feeling life rush into our brittle bones,
and sing again with wild beats
felt from the drum in our chest
and the orchestra in our heads
and dance with our beautiful feet
a dance to make a whirling dervish cry.

I Want To Live


Art Barber

A cloud,
to come and go,
maybe rain on you,
maybe split the air,
but to always be beautiful.

Let me be beautiful.

This is me


Art Barber

Live and screaming.
this is me.
this is the small child
locked behind the staind glass.
clear and pure glass painted
with semen and blood,
sealed with vomit,
and illuminated with truth.

Live and screaming.
this is me.
this is the fallen angel
who fell because he was pushed,
slapped viciously by the almighty
to go tumbling down the stairs
alone and bruised.

Live and screaming.
this is me.

Dead and Alive


Art Barber

See my blood
see my scabs
from the flood
from the fads

life is shit
but you take it with the drugs
family's shit
just useless hugs

used my time
had the traits
yet I drowned
in a glass of hate