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Poem

s/he came from some other place to
nestle in NYC & try to make it big off
other people’s talent---
they stroll through the open mikes, nightly,
and make themselves known at small shows
where the naïve transplants who want to be
the next big thing
come to nestle themselves &
stroke their jupiter sized egos---
the young record producer has a few references to themselves
on obscure albums that
no one in their right mind know exist &
they use this as leverage to lure in business partners who will
spend time, energy & money 
with them, in this pathetic attempt at 
profiting off others
who do things for the pure necessity of survival through
art &
not to be sodomized & raped 
by commercial vultures
such as this roaming twit.

every handshake
has nothing to do with a personal connection of any kind
people are there at said young record producer’s disposal 
to exploit & amass,
so that they can add up the names & vomit them out 
on the next unfortunate person 
who might show any interest at all
in what might be offered by the little “business”
that this person has begun &
they act as if you couldn’t throw a rock, blindfolded,
and hit someone just like them
in a town full of bob dylans, ani difrancos &
lady gagas
all trying to whore themselves out
before they get a muffin top or their hair goes gray.

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