"the artist's mouth"

"the artist's mouth"
after many eye rolls by jake kilroy.

the immaculate groaning came from the cavalier
hell-bent on shooting his mouth off,
as if carrier pigeons would spring from his throat
to drop great truth bombs on the masses
that carry as much wisdom as fortune cookies
and offer as much tact as a firing squad drunkard.

he kicked out the priests to criticize the church
and dragged the politicians through the square
to talk of how dirty politics could be at high noon,
but, in his best suit, he couldn't attend a brunch
without being hanged by his scrawny neck
with the rest of us chomping toast and downing coffee.

what good is an artist if he can't shut his mouth?
where is the craft if the good pulsates with the bad?
he wonders, and then steps on the chests of philosophers
to tell the world that all these bodies are a stage
and the curtain will never set on his social suicide.