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The legs of a Centurion
the source of glee, the loss of Troy,
the head of a girl, other in a boy
Why choose a letter that dresses like Caesar,
While waiting for the Galia chronics wars forever?
While quitting before feeling the legs of a Centurion
After a daylong walk, a strategic talk, drunk as ever?
This mad thing that lingers and crawls and spits
Even when its freedom is submerged within grateful waterpits,
This unimaginable convoluted organ that is the fuckery,
The origin of the orgy, the source of mockery, and yet kneel to you?
Who are thee, the source of glee, the loss of Troy, the price of my soul,
The song of an Owl, the shriek of a Raven,
why them, dear, are a murder?
Why are we guided by that organ, as wild in a boy as it is in a maiden.
Data Science, Statistical Analysis, Machine learning, the future pending,
By the Straw of destiny, the representation of demoiselles,
the certainty of an ending, precisely the kind of not knowing basis
Like the hall of Wiki, dear, imagine all of it, you got it, and SETI,
Les demoiselles D’Avignon, Forget HAL, Think of an enhanced Giacometti,
Art by Hook or Crook, A really new look,
All Universe in a nano Langenscheid book,
Dance, speed your feet, make’m meet, you Crook!
