... do not speak to me of the wisdom of philosophers ... esp. as it pertains to poets... their mad delirium no
worse or errant than philos and their crazy labyrinths of thinking and the tendencie to goovern the world one way
or the worried way other
do not speak to me of the wisdom
Wisdom
But along the strata at the broken plates,/(the left-over-pake) speak of caution as this madness flows in and over you've who dedicated yrself to
the word spoken/written from the mouth of volume ..
ah to say
you're a poet nothing harder
to say in a world a world of essence and appearance and power and those
who stabbed poetr y in the back turning to distraction gaining their secondary audience their false format
and her rat dangled cursed fur
by the dock and bay the squirty thing of her cunny the well sprung dig of anal lodgings i refused
O poets there's a rule maker at every door
telling you this an this from the mazy labyrinth of constitution dragging your ass
but I who am you speak from the misty days of the dead
saying what's the body's answer to the land of t he dead and the living and the head?
but the toilet where the crust of being is shunted down a shit hole
imitation like a spoke word crapped up in its own thing
not that motor mouth whose catholic gangster's hypocrisy's done no one any good
do it this way! do it that !
poets never make mistakes
when writing
theres no chance wing in this business .
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