Nine Pages Forged

One step at a time.

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Twenty’O’Nine, October,

Satoshi struck the match,

Nine Pages forged, now yearning,

For a future where we detatch,

From the vaults of printed paper,

From the frauds of banking lore,

Who sell us poison dreams,

Like a festering disease-ridden whore.

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Sitting, Watching my Node, Sitting, Watching my Sats, Watching the numbers Go up, go down, And my thoughts drift to

Vlad the Impaler, resurrected his campaign, With needles, instead of spikes, I sat at home, deep in thought, Some others

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