Mr Realisto

We see your pictures, the ones you post
in groups or themes like memory banks
the naked women with guns and dogs
erotic, quixotic, hypnotic, far fetched
the blow your brains out faked up gifs
the bra strap snapping tattooed breasts
and all the while you hide behind your
anonymous mask – a devil, a deviant
a twister of truths who tells it like it is
the way we see the world through a lens
one minute pukingly cute, the next
blood, guts, war and the birth of a child
forever questioning our resolve, our
whatever it is that feeds our curiosity
imaginations ripe as pomegranate flesh
in black and white, in colour, animated
we take it any which way with ease
with each question mark, rolling dice
our fingers manipulate and hover over
a woman with a freakishly forked tongue
a Turkish peasant banging a drum
a stoning, a kitten, a starving man and on
it’s endless and we can’t get enough
we can’t get enough, we can’t get
enough of this endless stuff.

 

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