Our words, not what it seems yet all they are
The many visions of…
Mountains melt to mole hills
Ink rivers, Paper moons
Uncharted universe, inspirations births
Peer through the windows of many a tortured soul
Dirty Harry made clean,
Long live a Black Queen
Alice in wonderland scenes
The many genres and emotions to spill
What ever does the soul hold next?
Those seamless bursts of expression
What ever next do we disposes “self” of ?
Anthems of the heart broken? Cry me a river
Philosopher, quote your Julia Caesar
Dare to bare the blackness of your soul
Bars come undone, new webs spun
The hideous/beauteous creatures of thought, born
Nina Simone, Frank Sinatra taking the stage, we are
This world of ours we make the front page
Judge us if you dare but it is ours
Do your dance naked on the streets and do not care
Our paper moons still smiling,
Ink rivers never running dry…
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Festival King 