dedicated to poets and to all those who feel that way
THE LETTER OF PURE REASON ADDRESSED TO BANKSY COVER POET BAND
You can not destroy the Thing.
you are unable to choke it as you like to asphyxiate the human form
ashes to ashes, dust in the mouth, there is a tongue inside or
a thin chord, of the monster – monster mute
after a large cut-off
But you cannot stop the Thing
as you can not stop the body to penetrate into the body,
nor to pause an air to mix with an air, it flows…
into the water, water moves through the water, a wave will cover the wave
at death’s door,
demise is behind a word, vain, the syllables cannot waive her part
THE PARTY AT THE BANKSY’S
While sipped Bollinger at fiscal cash register,
they saw a monster riding the cumulus
no, monster cannot ride a cumulus
logic finds monsters cannot ride a cumulus
the monster came down from cumulus
thus, the nouveau poets and the monster met
at the fiscal cash register, dancing and sipping together
After a drinking session, they tied monster and portrayed him
at the circus performances
because monster does not riding cumulus
a man may be ashamed looking at the face from the monster
WHO FEAR PERSECUTION BY BANKSY COVER POET BAND
Nouveau riche are looking for the word to cage her
how can one cage the word?
the perfect crime for better sales
but you cannot kill the word
for word is the thing and the thing is the monster
as you cannot trap the monster that is riding cumuli
imaginary, vague, impossible
fantasma is dancing in the field of nerves quickly, of
one nervous writer and hid in in his book
inside the book is scratching monster, bound in a story
You cannot kill a book
all you can achieve is that she, with her torn sheath,
hides herself in solitude, reading herself
looking into the wild heart from the sky
and be happy.
The Word in me.
the Music in me.
the Monster in me.
Sure you could get your clows on the book
and ripped her to pieces, sending it into the shadow and trade…
(How much you are strong!
the word pops up from the book,
hops in the air and disappears among the cumulus, screaming:
“God is calling.
God is poetry. Hurry up, Banksy!”
“God’s calling Banksy?”
The Banksy cover poet band has to go to church because it was written
that in the beginning was the Word
so the logical thing to seek the in a church
piety has changed shape.
The Thing had to be quiet, but at least she escaped pests
and this time.
Maybe you are wandering where is she now.
I am looking at her, we are smiling to each other
boocoo dinky dow, she cooes, my sweet little monster
Have you ever considered the possibility to kill the Writer?
or is not necessarily.
they are mostly on Banksy sale.