galahad in goosedown (fiat iustitia et pereat mundus) - Milo

Thank you, sir

You’re welcome, sir

Dry-humping the ecstasy in Seattle, baffled, channeling Sappho

Gold lasso loops, while holding an actual noose

Goose down plumage (goose down), I chose to remain a student

Of the disaffected malcontent, Halifax hyacinths and

Soup of the alphabet, a higher sense emerged

After I abandoned lucid mouthiness, Church of Black Rowdiness

Roy Rogers hanky-chief, lost it in the jungle gym

Bungled whims, mangled limbs, fuck rap, I’s go back

To finagling, finessing, I haggle for the message

Bits of soul, perhaps another round of cribbage though

Wicker poetry, it’s wicked to ever proclaim «Woe is me»

Hoping they don’t notice me, I might proceed unaffected

I forget the date the statue was erected but I dust it daily

Mawgs be musket waving, calling it art form and I nod like, «True»

We should rob all conscious rhymers, pass the Aunt Jemima (thank you)

If life were a dream of euphoria

We would not have schizophrenia or paranoia

If life were a dream of euphoria

We would not have schizophrenia or paranoia

They yelling, «Bro, you inspire me»

Like I ain’t the nigga who said «Oh well» to life’s entirety (oh well)

The prince of solipsistic fortresses, immovable objects

And irresistible forces, we galloped in on horses

They yelling, «Bro, you inspire me»

Like I ain’t the nigga who said «Oh well» to life’s entirety (oh well)

If life were a dream of euphoria

We would not have schizophrenia or paranoia

If life were a dream of euphoria

We would not have schizophrenia or paranoia

If life were a dream of paranoia

We would not have euphoria or schizophrenia

If life were a dream of schizophrenia

We would not have…