Da Vinci Green

Head of the Illuminati, beyond your intelligence,
although you may cling on to your intransigence;
there may have been a predilection for young men,
but when you go, you probably won't be coming again.

Yes, he morphed into the persona of Tracey Emin,
perish the thought but art has strange forms to begin;
he could have dwelt in a pile of bricks in Tate Gallery,
playing to mysterious colours with depth and mystery.

The angel of the north flapped its wings, laughing,
while Leo stood underneath, mimicking everything;
naughty boy, shouldn't be so ungracious should you?
it's all in the wind and just out of your league too.

It was better, he stood and watched you go to your home,
whilst he strutted, derogatory smile, in palaces of Rome.