Be lit, fam (draft)

Ew, gross, but I can't stop

a poem, a splash,


A lop.

Alope, to dream, a fantasy.

With my eyes shut I cannot see.


So simple shows finesse they say

Maturity, but come what may,

these are for me,

Of course, you think,

Of people as the letters slink

from ink to white,

metal to tree

ball to line

and thought from me.

The thoughts subside,

What's left is art

or something from which art may start.


It's comical, I guess from beat

but not the good, i guess repeat

until the meaning is devised

of course you will become suprised

as you create the relevance

based on your own developements

but you're one with omnipotence

and have to, thrifty, spend tuppence

and want to spend.

And so the art - it seems to me

Is not to show something pretty

Craftwork usury infinite mystery,

Simply, the inspiration's it.

Like passing flame,

For you, be lit.