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.
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