To King Poet

King Poet,
who stings like a hornet?
shoe strings were banned with colors on it,
In December, thinking of Austin’s bluebonnets,

A member, came in to the bar,
     asking who freestyles and raps bars?
Apparently, we wrapped symphonies,
      in the parking lot, with a lot, of other emcees.

A star,
one of many,
can’t wait!
To start turning regularity
        into an occupancy<
                            into salaries>
windows of reality,
Win more of those,
    than woes of brutality,

skinned clean to the bone,
to have made mortality, clearly shown.

bring the numbers,
as the king slumbers,

There, Unaware
 others are gathering undercover

The dome connects
the frames of systematic calibers,
roaming the network, challenge less
where chancellors are on the backburner list,

Underground, digging tunnels
to widen the vision,
commercialism has cats,
dripping whackjuice, on my evening

King poet!
 Spring to your feet
Like a hot spring,
He got up, knew defeat was certain
 and blew out the place, through the curtain.
Upon his grace leaving,
    his estate for the taking,
but first!
our thirst, our hunger,
to overcome the burdensome,

the old news, that continues
to plaque these same avenues
of venues unused, like no lentils in the stew,

Clues of the blue palace,
re view the census
of the senses on the palate,  
secularized compacts into covenants,

A new king poet of benevolence,
is necessary for poetic governance,
let’s see the documents,

The king poet walks back in,
with armies of his enemies kin,
‘ello Governor,
“Should have taken the language
with the numbers”

King Poet
once again,
locked up the game in a pen
muppets are treated as real men,
King Poet,
The muse and comic are in your den.

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