PHOENICIAN GRAFFITI
These spray-can scrawls on public walls
Express my psychic rage with rude intent.
My tags provoke a thoughtful pause
In much the same way Banksy does,
With cold irony and unrepentant guile.
My way of bombing bubble style
Might even tease a tourist’s smile.
But my darker themes paint silent screams:
Is it public?
Is it street?
Is it urban?
Is it commercial?
And then let’s consider my masterwork mural,
A brutally honest and life-like self-portrait,
A glimpse of me in all my squalid bohemian splendor,
Nothing but pavement crack and tenement dysfunction.
Too hard-edge for primetime, you say?
Well, I didn’t get a face like this
By staying out of trouble.
So there!
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