With baited breadth I waited,
Clasping a fist under the cloak
Here and there were warnings coated…
In a whimsical voice of a hardened joke
What is the price of lasting
consciousness?
Is it Myrrh or a jukebox from the eighties?
So often it is a mirage of frivolous
thoughts
Bound together by rhythmic bouts
Beaten and blown by the wind,
Never really gave it a fleeting wish
Unbecoming with legitimate sources
Stroked by figurative curses
Legions have fought for energies
Laid down scores of melodies
In an attempt to fool the petty
conformities
Pity, they didn’t know about soliloquy.
Created to destroy,
Alas, only the emancipation of joy
A profound figurine pouting lust,
In the arms of Earth’s crust!
These days cry for mercy
Not to be excused, but to be bleached
In an ocean of metaphysical blasphemy
Thou
shan’t, undo the power lying within the journey…!
