Cryptic Mystic

I'm kind a like 'a cryptic, math-Olympic, picture picnic, sense of rhythmic, mystic.

Zen teacher, when I'm pulling your leg, then beat ch-ya senseless with quibbles to out reach ya.

A spout preacher about the doubt that gave out to the scout seeker.

Scribbles to lay out the account when I be spraying riddles from out my mouth like trickles of signals from out the mouth.

There's no end to this when I'm pulling a Zen fist of intent, twisted mental content as you pretend to settle, when I know you're about to blow the whole show and transcend the metal. No economy.

No thee commonly as you will be an anomaly.

Honestly, with no apology, the populous will become nearly without quantity.