G ballade’s favourite spot
Enters Poetry,
the parody,
the poterie,
broken in shards of grey
first
then explode the colours
for a mind in tremors
trilling energies
into infinite data of heresy
to break off the code
from within
turning all doubts perversive
to itself
to collapse
to emerge from within
absolutely free
Who understands poetry?
the crazy
those that have removed all doubt
with erotic dreams
and believed
in beauty
you?
Can you still believe in story? There are no stories left, all is left to facts. Fact checked proof fat chequered facts. What is it, what medium is allowing the liquidity of your own thoughts to become rea L — estate.
Everything has always been about having real-estate. Real-estate allows your state to be real, to be grounded, to be fact checked.
Fact checked with poignant arguments, the currency.
The currency; allows the liquidity; to become rea L — estate; that allows your state; to be “REA l”… question mark
Being real
what an ordeal,
when it turns left
we go right.
(no political pun here)
Who understands poetry?
the crazy
those that have removed all doubt
with erotic dreams
and believed
in beauty
you?
