"Why are you still in a state of sloth in bed?"
The Ides of March have invited the fools of April,
They've invited me to show my irksome skill...
For the Red sea shall not part for me,
Only my pain shall set me free...
Sexy Mark Antony no more appealing to me ,
Who'll be shielded from madness with a head basked in caffeine?
So as Athena cursed Medusa,
Spattered ink leads me into a cursed era...
This is when Cleopatra's vain is masked,
This is when Helen's shoes are made of glass...
So as Cronus's castrated genitals could make Aphrodite,
Why can't my brains make a revolutionary delight?
( Which ain't the pioneering revolution.)
Why does Einstein's theory appear to be jaded?
( How could it be, my lord?)
Why do Morrison's sexy words appear to have faded?
(How could it be, oh how could it be?)
This circle of Willis,
Has become putrid...
Edison's madness seems too entered me,
But not with the same creativity.
( How can we make a grotesque imitation of a true genius?)
Why has Mr Gorky been kept in a corner?
Why is seductive Gregory Peck been referred to as a goner?
This is the first time Mr Newton is a nuisance,
Mr Cobain's angst is an anthem.
Mussolini's sadism has been given no thought,
To kill the soul with inner wrath...
These travesties of knowledge,
For fragments of frolic...
Dickens's great expectations,
Ain't like Van Gogh's insanity,
But sure ain't Picasso's dimensions...
Chanakya's brains,
They've been sieved...
For Ray Charles eyes couldn't be like B.B King's voice,
But wait, they're both prodigies...
To sympathize with the devil,
To be strange when you're a stranger,
For the sweet emotion,
In this hard days night,
Wishing you were here,
To be better than the real thing,
To face the face,
I don't want to be homeward bound,
Just like a woman,
Seduced by Elvis the Pelvis,
On the silent wings of freedom,
Because I was born to be wild,
Viva la Vida!
With the arrival of June,
I see the rush of my fortune...
For this madness never seems to end...
- My apologies on being juvenile.
A fun poem.
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