The Worderer's a Twizt'd Misfit...

 With this pen
Within this poet
it's this moment when
somethin' twizt'd's
'bout to begin

With this verse,
once scribed
thy words will run
'RAN-PAGE'
massively damage
like homicide

rampant I rant
from the chest
I'm at my best
I suspect even at rest
thy ink  plays

as ink n' poetic mind coincide
my my my, I wonder...
will a few feel FIX-ate it
on a  faux pas?

Sshhit no, it's just the Twizt'd's
linguistics of the Worderer DAH!

A lethal labyrinth of a mind
unburdened, burgeonin'
wry WIT on the verge to bust,
Twizt'd's gassin' the latch gone
unmaskin' yo the Worderer's
back on' anotha Worderous spree
"See?" they said, there's
gotta be somethin' Twizt'd in me...

This pen
This poet
gotta flow fast
before I blow it
into the 'in-ear-sphere'
Still I wonder
who'll listen-in
to what I hear?

I'm of a mind, designed by
God's hand, feedin' my hunger
from the poet's tree, an ancestry
of literal artistry...

thy ink weaved n' conceived
as mine murders mentally
verse for verse  always primed,
to give you the view from
what I see, mind cries
a 'conscious decree'

"To be won-

free

'Only
Not the just body
Each must reach the mind'

So...

teach one,
before your time is done"

Wordererin' it Twizt'd  
forever, flowin' spit
is a  soul endeavor
whenever I'm splish splashin'
in the poetic ink it's  in hopes
to make those Wordered
masses think...