You know, I am a connoisseur of kook rants, I love them like a wine lover can savor a fine Merlot, but even I couldn't get past the a) b) and c) of his hideous post. Maybe it's just me, I've always had trouble appreciating talented artists like Kurt.




Now this is funny: after reading our posts here about what kind of a poseur would snap his own demented-looking tortured artist profile pic, Kurt added the following:

Quote:

Hi welcome to Kurt's Art. This is where I post other artistic things I've been working on. Enjoy! E-mail me and let me know what you think! (By the way, the above pic was taken in about 10 seconds by Penthouse Pet Ava Vincent who noticed the peculiar lighting on me while I was doing the dishes and grabbed this quick pic, if you look bottom left you can see her shadow holding the camera). peace, KURT



YEAH! It's malcontents like YOU that don't understand poetry! Kurt's love will shoot you!

Quote:

Draw a line
Smoke a toke
Get it on
Hit the streets
Delirious
Paranoid
HOLLYWOOD BABYLON

Feel me
Thrill me
Heal me
HOLLYWOOD BABYLON
Yeah, o yeah...

Smash the car
Punch the glass
Oversleep
HOLLYWOOD BABYLON...
Sex trade
Video
Pay the rent
HOLLYWOOD BABYLON

Out in the sunshine
Ocean moonlight
My love will shoot you
I am the hunter
And I will find you
My love will shoot you down...

Feel me
Thrill me
Heal me
HOLLYWOOD BABYLON




Now this... This is just intense. Here he compares time to the metaphor of the dog--the constant, long-suffering companion of man. I feel like I could sit at Kurt's feet all day in his little elf uniform and just listen to him pine on time:

Quote:

Time is a killer of passion
Time is nippin' at my heals
Time is a dog whose teeth are at my throat



Ah, but who did steal the soul? Not Kurt, otherwise he wouldn't be asking. I really feel like a contextual analysis of this one, which goes by the subtle yet ingenious title "APOCALYPTIC NYMPHOMANIA," would be obtuse: the words just scream off the page like the tiny voices of ants being burned by a kid with a magnifying glass.

Quote:

She love her make up
We love to break up
I just wanna fuck and rock n' roll
Yo, who stole the soul?
Born again Sunset Blvd. gold
I just wanna fuck and rock n' roll.




I'm floored by this one. This is a whole new side of Kurt: vulnerable, defensive, still retarded but just waiting his metaphorical dad to give him a big metaphorical hug... or at least a reach-around instead of the usual toss of the soiled hankerchief on his head:


Quote:

I went out drivin' around 3 a.m.
Figured by then I'd had enough
I saw two stars in the evening sky
One was falling
It was my love

There's somethin' missin' in your kissin' babe
I'd swear was there before
There's somethin' in your kissin' babe
Somethin' sweet ain't there no more.

I hear your voice in the howling wind
I see your face come out of the dark.
Black clouds rolling in tonite
So vicious, unrelenting
Just like my heart

The trees are bending in the freezing night
I wait for you
With steel so cold
Your two headlights cut up my driveway
They flicker and fade
They are my soul




I leave you with that. Takes my breath away. This was the voice of the one and only Kurt.

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