No doubt in the name I earned, Ciji to be precise
Yet you can never doubt my precision
Never missed a score when I shoot
Yet you wonder what I shoot at
I break the air with my victory punch
In celebration of my conquests.
Pick me from my quiver,
Set me on the right path
Set me free with a lion’s might,
And see me roar….
See me charge forth to my target…
And with a butcher’s precision… See me hit the eye!
I had to be precise
There we no room to add some spice
Quick and vigilant like mice
While being conspicuous like lice
They had thrown tree dice
Squinting all my sphincters with a grip of a vice
Hoping on hope that my effort would suffice
Oh hail sons of the dark
Those who tasted beauty
Wanting the life frommore than just bread.
Crucified in Judas silver,
The cross is dry,
Harvest all souls, the master
Knock on the temple doors
To deliver a service so moving
Your frankincense poured in me
Raise your head high glowing in pride
With great precision you have reached the corners of my spherical world
I smile in your embrace
Martian labyrinth, creation length
Rumor has it, curves bend and never end
Devil’s lair, syphilis haunted cowards claim
Hounds released brave the depth,
This hell hath no fury, but mashmellow seeds
Within creation awaits,
Just one catch, initiate the curves with precision.
Hit the seeds, stay put but lose the tail.
Righting my wrongs
The lit, Mr Righteous rightist
The poetic healer, swallow the heavy lines for the heart healing the helium as the oblivion on Belgium. So precise in these words, no censors for this fiction, I perform my decisions.