We shit on schoolmasters & police. We sneer at liberationists ideologues, and we avoid well lit rooms.

We be topological charlatan in your corridors, abandoned parks, ambush-decor.

Each of us holds half the map! Seams of our city-state blur in our sweat.

Words belong to those who steal them back so we be thieves.

We are bored by equal opportunity employment. We do not work for a living.

We do not complain. We do not explain. We love black. We admire tropicalisimo, sabotage graph breaking fancy and imagination. Unbridled play, embracing disorder as wellspring of style and storehouse.

We are interested in returning reconnecting poetry to the body. Therefore, poetry is set to music by virtue of efficacy.

We are poets who approach the craft as crime, not against bodies but ideas.

We advocate exemplary crime aesthetic crime crimes of love, action and thus art by spontaneous nature.

We act as free. We are what we pretend to be. We calculate the odds , step out, smoke eat, drink, think and speak , avoiding the crossfire but taking the risk to dance before we calcify!

We know to unveil oneself is to be declared heretic, exiled by society.

And yet we reject martyrdom, symbolic pain.

We accept criminality. Civilization owns all leases so we must trespass. We accept the outskirts We refuse a thin survival while waiting on revolution. Our muses manifest themselves on verboten ground.

Artist as criminal, our model is the child-gang, or the bank robber band. Money is a lie. This quest is possible without it.