The Language of the Second Leg and the Devil
The Language of the Second Leg and the devil
In the second leg,
We, the four poets with one deleted
Agree to watch every word by our poet on duty
But stride to the requisite journey
So we must walk with our backs facing the front
Our ears infested with curiosity
Soon we lose the e..echoes..e.. coz echoes ebb
And so we lose the poet too
But we allot one laureate to wait
In a rhyme, this time
The third leg is nigh
Where I and the couplet must go on
This time into darkness, where we know where we come from
But not where we go; so we code the ghosts we court
Sinister symbols, now demonic satire
Nothing new, beyond the few I knew
For darkness is gold to the devil,
And only the poets know it
They know the devil cries; he fears death
Little wander he has not died; yet mortals who die never return
If I kill you, you will die; Die in a fashion, you will live to remember
Since sugar levels die, Even libido dies -
So I speak in a language that only I and the devil understand
But the devil has crater ears; watch National Geographic
(Magma is the ****** of the devil)
So, I leave one audit poet to play peekaboo
With Lucifer; breaking ice with imps
(This is the 3rd 4th and 5th stanzas of a long poem titled: The uselessness of Poetry)
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