war of my words

[revolutionR]

I wanted to break the rules, or bust cherries
I had no cool time for arch fools, wasn't scary
didn't care much for small town minds, or rinds
I did not go around looking to get into fist fights
but I began to find words could punch you out
began to realize through my sarcastic offense
my unraveling pretense of barbed garble

to the world that I presented with, the appearance of
that poetry became permanent presence to my thrust
where and how this awoke in me a shadow boxer with
words, I pugilist poet, a pummel word fighter, a knife
tongue, I will slice though your bullshit, knock you out
took many years to forge my tempered steel blade mind
it was in the rain, and sun, and in the wind, moon it was
it was in the dark places where the fire whips its fingers
those thin flames hidden between pages of the books

I read in the cafes and under bridges, I read next to the sea
I was looking for a gun of language to shoot at he empire
I was freeing my desire to experience everything beyond fun
I wandered like a threadbare assassin of days killing time
at my will, trashing people's belief, no relief, I was a falling
leaf, full of grief, full of deep whispers of curses and cures
I wore my soul on my face, I bore my disgrace, I knew rage

I fed my tempest with bitter truth I danced like a madman
in the middle of the street of sentences that fell from me
I would bleed on you, if you got in my way, blood of the poet
I brandished a pen at you, if you hurt my feelings, I wrote
what I felt, spelt what I spilled my guts out on a piece of paper
I was the rapper of white spaces, where words stuck it in pink
what I think is how I write, I conjure elephants out of my head

nothing is sacred, so get thee behind me, oh holy devil of red
I fed my thought with all the forbidden magic of the word, gird
me about with daggers on nouns and verbs so that I might smite
so that I live another hour to say what it is that I got to say
I don't have time to pray, I'm too busy writing things down

The very fabric of thee universe is wheeling through me, around
my clown of profound junk verses of love and hate, of tattoo knuckles
about to knock your block off, with the letters of liberation, chuckles
is my name, my name is mud, is mountain, is river of revolution over
stones of bedrock, I will unlock the imagination of the ages, open stars
I joust with Proust or Faust, I eat the flowers of evil for my breakfast
and in the dead of night I read Illuminations by candle light, to fight
for my right to descend into hell without a dime, or penny for your
thought, it's what you lose as you go underground, what you give away