deepundergroundpoetry.com

My Words

[i]My Words

Dressed in an overflow of rhythm. Words flow infinitely within the path �of my vocal cords. Through hymns sang in tones only given to beings against all odds. My words project emotions that cause verbal assaults.

A signature of my word is satire by default, an envelope of synonym licked and enclosed with poetic occult, hence why words uttered previously continue to dwell through spheres of life.

Words have a life span, they can damage the receiver into insanity but he who transcends vowels will never be haunted by consonants.

Words far greater than meaning and words left unsaid can be finally understood because my words are born from the core of nothingness and are lifted up by empty shells who lack creativity.

I create words from concrete that leave the reader in permanent
� � � � � � � � � � � �mur�ta kweno parta kus�

Words have principles Or maybe my principles are just words. I bathe in oxford pages never witnessed by the world. My words remain stationary until I tell�em to
� � � � � � � � � � � � �
� � � � � � � � � � � � � �varoto paloto harosh� [/i]