Come over and sit round,

Listen, merely a moment of

your time is all I require,

but I'll leave it to

you, if the hoops to

leap through are not too "damning",

If my talent for weaving

is enough to take the

challenge, to lift the young

PoetKing to a Throne sculpted

from your hands, that ol'

faithful fluttering behind my head,

light the fighter within, ignite

the now, the unique.

Launch this Aquarian Age Poet,

finger on the pulse, bring the

Origins of music back, snatch

it from those ancient hands

to input it in my soul, pump it

through my blood, now make your

choice, as the sun burns

in the sky- a middle nomen of

mine- I will make it

with or without you!

Blinded by the Morningstar's skill,

Awaken to the potential, Slumber

to the idea of Catatonic Failure.

Flit through the Sadistic Culture,

the masochistic self-improvement, the

Animalistic war waged upon Death

for a mere ninety years of

her Twin Sister, see now?

Liberate the words, Liberate their minds

Change the World.

Nocsce Te Ipsum (Know Thyself), will you?

I Am Poet, down to

the chromosomes weaving me

together in their microscopic dance

to produce Poetry's Wife: Life

to build the duo's third,

the Triad of all Poets:

Poetry, Life, Love.

given in different doses, I- and

my fellow Brothers and Sisters- shine

as miniature stars, feeding on

ourselves and each other- There!

the Triad's First Born: Inspiration!

Burn bright into the day and night!