A painter

I think he’s a painter,

With his hands off.

He my have potential, but do not mention the feet,

Dignity demands that we ignore what we are left with,

So that all we are left with are the screams.

The screams become rather muted.

The courage is mutiny,

Because courage doesn’t express,

It just declares.

Declarations are silly,

Like the tolerant man who says ‘African American’

Declaring the lover of nigger’s racist.

The niggers are in chains

The chains mock slavery

And slavery is an institution

Which should only oppress the white.

Because the whites got the raw deal.

The raw deal would be the Orpheus

The Orpheus being the source of my pleasure.

And though it would be a taboo,

I think it would be fun to try.

And trying these things they become too common

So that the commonality

Decrees it royalty.

After all

Isn’t that what we have the commonality for?

In Republics

Of Kings,

The Kings being the ones

Who probably should have died now.

They are just waiting to see

Their dynasty ensured.



Futile.




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