Musee des Beaux Arts

My verse: 

A Creative force shattering tropes, memes and  Empires.

My versifying unblemished by the past, present; the near and distant future

I am the full stop of language. The great editor that pulls the page –

As the presses are about to run. My words are gospel.

“Well, I've been up all night again
Party time wasting is too much fun.”

 

My verse is adamant, burnished steel

Cutting through convention, the trite, the trivial. The common place.

A smouldering creativity that is cast in Apollo’s caldron.

The new Age of Aquarius:

Long hair, no cloths and Kenneth Tylan

“ I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colours anymore, I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes”

Fear my words. For I am Kali. I am Dhumavati.  

Destruction is my occupation: My Word.

I am nature. In me all exists and with my rhyme the Universe is created out of darkness.

Listen all who wish to learn. Listen to the sound of my golden tongue. And weep.

“Sugar, ah, honey, honey
You are my candy girl
And you've got me wanting you
Honey, ah, sugar, sugar
You are my candy girl
And you've got me wanting you.”

 

Oh fuck. Why do I bother?