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Phil Kellogg

Murder Butterfly

The rainy, watery day
Frolicking in the bleeding sky
'Haha', we say
Playing with my murder butterfly

Like the white on rice
And the dots on dice
That's just alrigh'
Dancing with my murder butterfly

My butterfly's soul is of the dead
Waiting to pass through purgatory
For it is a ghost instead,
Loving my murdered butterfly

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Stickfigure

Stickfigures hide in the dark
In pens and pencils
Clouded by paper
Waiting to leave their mark
From freehand and stencils
Along they caper
Jumping and dancing
Like the wild old cavemen
Hunting and romancing
More wild than ravemen
Their obstacle is imagination
Wanting more muscles
And something that rhymes with 'ation'
Living in every town including Brussles
The original gangstas of art
Long drawn on walls
Canvases and a shopping cart
In the schools and down the halls
Locked forever in permanent poses
Whether the good guys or bad

[...] Read more

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