Silver Skimpy Ink, String, A POET DESTROYER's bling, bling Think of me as a human ditty delicious decoration, Something along the line of a sweet tooth temptation Cherry tastes, between the slit of tender toast  Fine jumble jam slams down the tongueless throat  Dance like a diamond on The tight South Pacific Rim I'll feed you with a slithering seductive sound My hair soaking, -wet and wild, tonight I trim A dulcet apple a...

Yeah, I'm more then a poet cause I'm an artist and a writer. I'm a lover and a fighter and my son provider. I have a habit of my own of graspin' words with my fist. See, I'm a talented unknown and unheard of lyricist. Look, I'm as real as this art. So no poet could ever diss me my feelings come from my heart And I flow it so effortlessly. I'm more than a poet that's how I feel deep inside of me- every line and combine it...

Pen and paper, ink and words, drips of wax and candlelight. A hunched up figure at a desk writing through the night. A brainful of imagination, a well of unpenned thoughts, trickling slowly to the page in letters, words, inkblots. Scratching, scrawling, scribbling fills that small scriptorium. Curls, serifs, and cursive swirls spin words for tales to come.