the world no longer knows bout what real art is with their fake idols and fashion the ones who create real art are ridiculed while their work is torn down they stand strong
knowing who is real and who is not knowing who is great and who is not there are so many that don't care and saints that do care but most are unfeeling filled with the ******* of their lies
when a poet is at rest he breathes uneasy waitin for his muse when a poet is at work he breathes the breathes of all for he is exhaling the universe in his work when he completes he is satisfied