My Pen

Come now my pen!

My pen, you shall be

my valiant sword

you shall be my chivalrous


Oh sweet pen, speak

out upon my rage,

my fear,

my love,

my desire.

Run my pen along this

dead page.

Be the source my pay,

my life

my peace.

Tell the tale I cannot

my pen.

Do the job I do not want.




Rhetorical Questions

Do we call to arms our

great minds for the sake

of their minds?

Do we not sit upon

thrones made of African

machine guns?

Are these thrones not

sitting in the Louvre

or the British Museum?

Does vanity become

a bi product of consciousness,

or consciousness a bi product

of vanity?

Are we slaves to our emotions?

Or are our emotions slaves

to us?

Are we ever going to find an


Or, is there no answer

to find?



Wicked destruction,

Wicked self destruction,

Wicked self destruction

that would make Fydor


Sanity is having the

good fortune that other

people have the same problems.

Good fortune is luck

luck is rare.

Rare because we

forget we have control

we forget we have control

because we give up control.

We must take back control


False Label of Savage

Savage that which is

the nature of rebellion

is that of truth

nor structure.

Savage, Exotic

Savage, the nobel


What you find is no


I stand before you,

audience to this scene,

bare word to this


to this rest.

Savage is that

rest, in the black

heart of the jungle,

the rest of the

savage non savage.

So to which that

can only be of peace,

only what can be

of rest.



Traded Grey


Coming yet is the set of night,

the yellow of light

is traded grey.

Simple so it seems yet intricate

beyond any dream.

Explications searched,

and explications sought.


and also bought.