Poets the linguistologist, the deep miners

The uncommon word, the daft

They probe the inner core of self

They contemplate the unknowable and improbable

They explore the impossible and they dare to speak the unspeakable

They live on the edge of the abyss

Some of madness, of perverted imagery

They confront, dismantle, confound, disrupt

They call out those who are hidden

They are not afraid to push the limits of what is acceptable and normal



They see the beauty in violence, balance in chaos, reason in suffering

They bind that which is broken

They loose that which is bound

They expose that which hinders


They confound the wise, bring light to the lost

They are not bound by the rule of law

They will not conform to the statutes



One of a kind, yet unique in style and form

Imposters abound like dust particles, they have invaded every space

They peddle this digital drab upon the passive massive

The brainless drones of cyberspace sitting there like sponges

Soaking up whatever crumbs fall their way.



They are eagles soaring over a sea of shit

That counterfeit black digital sea we call the internet

To find them, to feel them one must reach up

One must be able to see the sky above and know that they are there

They will not blend into the group

They will not follow your rules

They will not conform

They will fly endless and eternal

Just over your head and out of reach

This is how you will know them


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