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Ode To Aristotle.

If I was Aristotle and he is long gone,
I think he would like it if I sang him a song,
What is money when your soul is in jail,
What is money when your told you will fail,
 
What is life but what’s within our veins,
And so it is but blood, until none remains,
I dare not be so morbid, for I too must die,
So try to kill my spirit and I will spit in your eye,
 
And I shall learn, to do it with grace,
To spit as I talk, as many landed on my own face,
And think of poor Aristotle, who tutored such a man,
As Alexander the great, blood too, in his veins ran,
 
If I was not a dreamer, not a mortal in this world,
If I was not a dancer, dancing to the universe what else?
If I could find some peace without having any power,
In a world of idiots who stand out of every shower,
 
The beast in all of us is ready always to pounce,
On anybody near, so we all live in fear,
I would ask Aristotle why? And he could not deny,
He knew how to teach, some of what Alexander did reach.
 
I would fear the sickness, the shackles of life,
The way we all fight, for an intelligence we each own,
The ego of the penis,
Our brains are not our bone.

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