Artist Spotlight: J. Edward Moss
>>As an artist we all are attempting to display our views and opinions in a way that paints with intrigue and skill. My purpose and drive as an artist is to display just what I see through this world and relay it through poetry, music, photography; as many mediums as possible. Upon displaying that work, my second mission is to connect to those who see truth in my art, and try and relate to those who might felt the same way. Poetry is constantly moving and growing and changing whether we know it or not. It’s my job to prove that.
"THE SCORE"
sensitivity
won’t get you shit.
look how gentle
flowers laid down
their arms
for fields of skyscrapers
fingering the clouds.
look how soft songs
went unnoticed
and more artists
lost ground over night
than any wars waged.
look how every framed
painting of truth
is melting and becoming
forged into daggers
that will erase their
old intentions.
look how once our
nightlong battles
gave way to progress
now, our heads,
suffocated
& stamped.
“IN RESPIRATION”
i will call this
moment of my life:
breathing.
filling in full
til edges blur
and letting out
calmly, cooly.
lighting someone
else’s cigarette
under a decorated moon
i imagine
i will one day
kick myself in the back
of the head
for having wished away
this time so easily.
“ALL SMYLS”
i yam smyling
my goat twoothed grin
slyed an orange
n peel it
in mie gapped teeth.
you silly
lookin’ fcker.
still smylin’
thuh sayme in
eh vur eeee
foe toe.
dumb luck
will due that
two yew.
“EX-BARFLY & A BAR”
another night
in a hundred nights.
no grand suite playing
Or crystal chandeliers shifting
Stale air coveting it’s prey
Same eyes as last week
No splash of new ideas or anything
Same same same
Like hymns well traversed
Heads bow before alter
Nothing altered or re: formed
Hands covering eyes and mouth
Uneasy at becoming fixtures
another night
So easily disassembled
With brilliant eyes
And sense of worth
“To best one’s beatings
One must bear the brunt
Of moments fleeting.”
Another recapping
Of repetition perfected.
“YUPP”
The yuppies wear
Whatever they want
It’s Friday
So their 45 minute work week
Comes to a close
And they’re released
Back amongst the living.
What an existence.
I’m just waking
And they’re
Ready to retire.
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