(More Paint) For Basquiat

“See the wall, it stands but it’s a fit up”

Appropriation isn’t stealing it’s about giving (a damn)

sauce on the diner’s table

                                      Marking out new territory

A scream as a song,

                                 a tale told all night,

                                                                   a birth in under 60 seconds

Give unto them as they take from your kin

Crossed out words and children’s scrawl give attention to skin

Steal lyrics and use them to water down your gin

I’m drunk as a sailor in port and I am using this typewriter as bait

After a million times, in a million years, with a million of us on the job

The media will eventually be forced

                                                               To agree

                                           To admit

                             To swear

Right out loud

                        That all along it was fate

            and you are taken down-literally-off the wall

                                           for no seen good reason

          but only because (as the heard rumour goes)

                       you can pronounce minutiae correctly

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