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.



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,


& stamped.


i will call this

moment of my life:


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.


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.


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.


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.