Prevention is acscencion to another plane,
Where toils are reaped to reclaim past fame,
Shuddering bliss is often lingering pain,
Faking happiness to seem slightly sane,
Now I don’t pretend to know the score,
When the final minute is up and you breathe no more,
But it’s never too late to rack up one more point,
Poised to lurch, torch and burn to disjoint.

What was that all about,
“That makes no sense, get out”,
I dont care or even slightly bloody know,
These are my words and my show.

Make of it what you will,
And if it confuses then pass me the bill,
I can take all your derision,
It just makes me want to envision,

That one day these words will stretch out far and wide,
Delivering unsullied tales through rhymes about my other side,
To an audience-wide eclectic in demographics,
Whether they have ethics, or are just old relics,
with no conscious of my methods.

~It matters not , it never does,
Call the popo, call the fuzz,
This diatribe has lost its buzz,
Oh forgive me for this lust,
I have for words that bust,
Old concepts of how we should write, type and live life.
Bury me whole and I’ll resurrect again with more,
More ideas sprawled onto paper bleeding raw,
It’s fantastic the circuitous nature of this song,
I never expected I’d be going for this long,
It evolves and grows the more it is watered and fed,
With additives of adjectives in this narrative of what is said,
Acting as a laxative which averages how many are led,
The flow damages and so needs bandages for your head.

Have I killed it yet, or should I just continue,
Continue to release lessons which defend you,
If you can’t see it shining plain,
Then grow some more and try again.

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