My Territory

The mercenary, the poet, and the sage,

The holy tri-head, of what I assume,

Is my identity, my blade, page after page,

Poems, solution after solution, of problems,

I created, answers, to spiritual problems,

I serve the devil, I serve the children,

Fumbling for words, lazy, and wants to go to sleep,

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My loyalty to my youth, my embarrassment, godhood,

Mistake after mistake, a flowing river, and a solidified path,

The person I want to be, the great West, I want to explore,

Weaving web after web, one day, I will capture the world.

Buddha Under the Bodhi Tree

The truly poor, can survive on dew drops,

The grace from the heavens, the gratefulness,

Would fulfill them for days, like a demon,

Inserting his penis in an insect, praise the heavens,

How fulfilling, as above, so below, the satisfaction,

Of tasting worms, the same, as conquering heaven,

Your daughter, one, two, eleven, twelve,

How much would you sacrifice, for a taste,

A bite, if you had to fight the world,

It would be worth your soul,

The lovely taste of innocence,

On your lips, wet, like strawberries,

A cherry popping, the Buddhists, have nothing on me,

I’m a cultivator, trip wire, do you dare test me,

Are you watching, as I taste these lips,

Claim this fruit, so ripe, so ready,

Spread my seed, all over her lovely tits.