There are commons fixing fences for us
There are gurus fermenting lives for us
There are hatchers cooking lives for us.
And there are
Those all whom you know
Those all who you know but recall not
Those all whom you crave not to recall at all.
And there are
Things that you loved to play with
Things that were of the finest gifts couriered to you
Things that you always wished to present to
Things that you loved to hate
Things that you hated to love.
And there are
Thoughts which squeezed your childhood
Thoughts which you shared on your fairy walks
Thoughts which ignited your dampness
Thoughts which you breathed out to change a hundred lives around
Thoughts which encroached into your id.
And there are
Theatres where characters chameleonise at every stroke of midnight
Theatres where bondages are bounded over decades and broken overnight
Theatres where wired clowns are baked on biddings
Theatres where mules are cloned and human skin tanned
Theatres where mediocre tangle with the bourgeois.
And there are
Thatches full of Somalian skeletons and Ugandan skulls hung all over
Thatches painted in African blood shades
Thatches ornamented with the oriental empty earthen hungry bowls
Thatches across euroamerica with reinforced steel and cemented beams,pillars and beams
Thatches with golden canopies down the stairs of world bank with civilized beggars.
And there are
Thinkers who really thought over their heads and difference they made
Thinkers who really didn’t boil their heads yet difference they made
Thinkers who were buried alive ‘coz though tugged for Utopian reality
Thinkers who sneaked, demolished and demised in the orbital pull
Thinkers who woke up erupted like Fujiyama under the scorching sun.
And there are
Thugs flicking and flicking and flicking and flicking
Thugs being caught and beaten up released and felicitated ‘gain
Thugs with empty bellies they go daintily raising arms for alms
Thugs baptized to be put into the gentleman’s list
Thugs licensed to ease inside parliaments, assemblies and august chairs.
There are gurus fermenting lives for us
There are hatchers cooking lives for us.
And there are
Those all whom you know
Those all who you know but recall not
Those all whom you crave not to recall at all.
And there are
Things that you loved to play with
Things that were of the finest gifts couriered to you
Things that you always wished to present to
Things that you loved to hate
Things that you hated to love.
And there are
Thoughts which squeezed your childhood
Thoughts which you shared on your fairy walks
Thoughts which ignited your dampness
Thoughts which you breathed out to change a hundred lives around
Thoughts which encroached into your id.
And there are
Theatres where characters chameleonise at every stroke of midnight
Theatres where bondages are bounded over decades and broken overnight
Theatres where wired clowns are baked on biddings
Theatres where mules are cloned and human skin tanned
Theatres where mediocre tangle with the bourgeois.
And there are
Thatches full of Somalian skeletons and Ugandan skulls hung all over
Thatches painted in African blood shades
Thatches ornamented with the oriental empty earthen hungry bowls
Thatches across euroamerica with reinforced steel and cemented beams,pillars and beams
Thatches with golden canopies down the stairs of world bank with civilized beggars.
And there are
Thinkers who really thought over their heads and difference they made
Thinkers who really didn’t boil their heads yet difference they made
Thinkers who were buried alive ‘coz though tugged for Utopian reality
Thinkers who sneaked, demolished and demised in the orbital pull
Thinkers who woke up erupted like Fujiyama under the scorching sun.
And there are
Thugs flicking and flicking and flicking and flicking
Thugs being caught and beaten up released and felicitated ‘gain
Thugs with empty bellies they go daintily raising arms for alms
Thugs baptized to be put into the gentleman’s list
Thugs licensed to ease inside parliaments, assemblies and august chairs.
