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i am the dissident poetician...i tear down fences with sardonic sardines and metaphysical cucumbers

Saturday, July 16, 2016


If I ever stopped writing with this pen and expressing how I was feeling
It would probably spell the end of my freedom and I would wind up in prison
For committing uncharacteristic acts of violence against countless others
Who have done me wrong in a sad, druggie song, guilty as charged ever after
Yes, it would spell disaster for anyone who has ever truly fucked me over
For everyone snaps if pushed too far, even when their head is dead set sober
If not for the violent fantasies I have unashamedly expressed on paper
Bloodshed would now be reality, as I would no longer be doing any favours
Artistic expression in the form of rap has been mine and others’ saviour
Not everybody’s favourite flavour, but it has prevented potential mass slaughter

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