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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.
