Loose Paper Prophet

I am the loose paper prophet Prophetising profetisms as loose As the paper on which I write them I stand between you and my mind like a Moses, An oracle intoxicated by the fumes of Delphi, Possessed by the demons of my creativity Scribbling on loose paper I am a prophet. I prophetise the words of my mind To your ear lobes, Till the words resonate in the deeper parts of your dome But it must hit home if religious Then false are my prophesys And proven false prophet I am But a prophet none the less I prophetise worldly visions Like herbalists high in search of better days Dreaming of thugs mansions And moments of silence And how you will see me when you get there If you ever get there I am a loose paper prophet But soothe sayer by no means Ma paper boasts bursts of ink that Colour the truth as I see it Prosaic verses in libre, This is me I deliver In the midst of papers floating as leaves rustling in the wind. Yes, this is me Prophetist of the loose pages.