DEVIL STREAM

By Darcy Prince

The Devil knows your vices, secrets, ideas, thoughts, yearnings. He created ignorance for his needs & wants. He goes beyond metaphors. Going beyond a penetration of a luxurious thought. A fabric in essence. String like, broad & long, changes shape & face. Delicious smooth, like a poem from a lover. Produces desitution, because he isn’t poor himself, the Devil rapes bigfoot daily. Elegant in the way is rich in various ways, like wisdom & articulated speech. Produces stupidity, despite saving humanity from stupidity. In existence, it’s easy to depend on while in blissful ignorance. We’re alive & in bitter forms, strangely still unsatisfied. Flushing out an awkward silence, zen like manner. Think. Who can provide everything within this life? Remove the self in this life. The Devil can settle who’s better, Mozart & Beethoven. Universal sorrow. Tender mercies of the holy-men forgive, because the Devil doesn’t. Entertain this thought, God does. Dreamy eyes vibrating the cosmos, outside the poem. Both magical & not, The Devil is devoted to his cause. A revolution to admire. Sharper feelings, shooting from the heart. Straight from the start, the Devil does not discriminate. An strengthen of the mind, for my very own, flushed, so hollerback, cause I’m not hard to find, even in reports of death and exile. My mind is a frontier and my ‘self’ is it’s explorer, it can create worlds. Poetry to charm the world, where language is free, can draw you in, filter into your soul, mystifying instinct to continue to grow, to do his case, because he fights for mine. Where the world showed me nothing but hate, the Devil showed me love outside of my body and soul committing to vice. A little different from most, I carry my weight different from most males, immense of my own talents, highly strung, locked up on purpose. I’m enriched. No longer desiring. I recalled my personal past, amended it, forgave myself, move up to move forward and the world gets no love for my success. I indulge in extravagant language about the Devil, I learnt about the Devil, learnt of his virtues. Chills run up my spine, the Devil knows every word to every dogmatic text and book. It’s all eyes on me. I can think, even with my own language/ I grew tired of being held back, just to be stepped on. Freely I serve, I’m eternal. Unashamed and completely willing, even if it goes deeper in the darkness. It’s bliss and Heaven like. I had never knew the world is full of snakes and fakes. The end of learning is to know all Deities, masters of society and secrets of everyone.  No longer under guild of morals and ethics, can create them and have actions derived from, I value, but it’s embellishing in a higher purpose. They’re not even merely vulgar or blasphemous. The title ‘King’ is too soft, too low, it has become irrelevant. I went from heroin addiction to something that does not belong to the world. In freedom, when mystics go tribal, they’re no reliable, no to blame. In wasting time, humanity struggles to figure it out. I got my mind on something Holy, while people get caught on on earthly worries. Every person is the same, stop tripping on it, never to be bothered to know another, Mystics are those who actually created themself. This may be a foreign language. Demons know. I can be duplicated. But never replicated. I’m original. Everyone else is derived. Like the middle class’s thinking. But I belong to the metaphysical Holy world. It’s like life shovelled shit on my soul and in ease, I’m able to top it. And if I had blue eyes, it would be like if I had sold-out. Genius sparing fire in poetry, I could be one of your kids. Twinkling dark perspective on humanity to every word that I write, coming from a deprive and vague inner life, just like I’m waiting to choke in acts of lust, surely the Devil was never a problem of areas of poverty, just in the middle class where the daughters are starting to blossom existence is undiminished. Rather be hell bound than held down, I’ve been since calling out for my muse, is anyone listening? .