You want to go, <br />you want to sling, <br />you letters in my face? <br />My style is good, <br />my spit is quick, <br />can you keep up the pace? <br />Veterans of this ring my friend, <br />know to step aside. <br />When the saint begins to roll his pen, <br />eyes burst open wide. <br />The paper fears, <br />the pen inks tears, <br />writers fill with sorrow. <br />Its been that way for many years, <br />it will be that way tomorrow. <br />You may not know just who I am, <br />no one must have told you. <br />Your standing in the presence of, <br />the poet Saint Cynosure.<br /><br />saint cynosure ( Ken Bennight )<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/pugilist-poet/
