Wednesday, April 1, 2015




A bright spark she is not
Right away a riff- raff –
People say , off and on
Pay lip- service to the so- called
Poverty of her imagination
Preponderant problems….
She , on the other hand
Struggles…silently struggles
From bottom of the barrel
To bring home the bacon
In a willy- nilly way
With a disabled body……
On my mind she has been
She is, and when I look up at her
I try to wink…wink away my tears…
Think – she is scrumptious
Scrounges around for
Some must- knows…some
Absolute must- knows……
But shop-windows…all shop- windows
Are closed for her by a world…
By a world that shoots the breeze…
She is beaut, beautiful beyond imagination
But a system , made of
Bad and basher mirror glasses
Reflects not her beavering away…
Her beavering away at a horizon
That’s hell- bent…hell – bent
And well off with whip- rounds…..
Reflects only home truths
That come through twisting hearts
Around their little finger n’ from howdah…
But me…me and this world
This so- called mine of informations
Are not two of a kind….
Seeing that- I do home in….
Home in on her love , on her
Different and dinkum ability
And I know- dollars
Dollars along with dolly birds
Drum their dreams into this world
As she dwells in a dome….
In a dome of dolors …..
And I do honors for life by inclination
As she incoherently insists…insists that
Insignificant is death
Above all interchangeabilities
Machiavellian interchangeabilities
Inherent a madness inmost……

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