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I’m out of breath, though run amain.

Leaving the trench of my champaign,

Trying to save what you profane.

Oh, what a hopeless scatterbrain!

To nihilism you are a counterstain.

That is the time when I under great strain

Watch everything go down the drain.

Oneness of Two Is Halved Once They Are Turned Moiré

A crew of order and shambolic disarray -

Two factions that’ll never stop their fray,

One’s in the lead after another’s clandestine endplay -

Perpetual, skewed and so agley -

A blatantly recurrent, maddening stairway.

It’s reminiscent of a sinuous byway,

Or rather a refracted ray.

And surface flat becomes a brae.

The foundation proves to have a thin backstay.

The main road infiltrates subway,

Where conscience is too firm to slip away,

And chaos strives for holding sway.

Waging a battle on a tray

That will be served to feed “Dismay”.

Was ordered to reveal love’s hideaway.

We were to find a needle in a heap of hay,

To go against the grains of time and leave unscathed with walkaway.

To claim permissiveness the order of the day,

To greet the very Caesar with “Ave”!

“The yet to be discovered system in the Milky Way…”

A journey with a redolent bouquet

With quite an unexpected expose

Of lifelong disenchantment, disappointment and decay

Did really manage to portray

Me as a paramour manqué.

With my lips sealed I feared stiff lest my damn look should say:

“It’s unbelievable that having had my last and a most promising essay

In hunt for happiness, I should’ve brought melancholy someway.

Manners be hanged, I’ve always known I’d rue the frigging moment any day

When blasted vagueness staged a play

Where I took part, where gained my sobriquet”.

My apprehensions I could not display

Or otherwise…rebellion, mutiny, foul play

My crew could travel till doomsday

Or…till wild water filled hatchway.

So hardly had we left the bay

On a refulgent day of May,

Its tact suave, the look soignée,

And voice melodious, each section given vivace,

Than vicious wind led us astray.

Forcing the radiance into crashlanding on below sea level run –be cursed- way

Herding a flock of ink above – as good a shepherd as a bouvier.

All of a sudden all the calm whittled away.

Why, an inveterate roué,

His senses sharp, his mind risqué,

While intimacy’s such that one has never known in cabaret.

As in the sea of lust his anchor is aweigh.

Its tainted waters cloak precaution with remissness to bewray.

Acts straight without any foreplay.

One doesn’t need to plug away

At understanding the impatience of an easy lay.

A dingy substance started leaking out of a sweet, lambent dragee,

So colours murky, branching out, replaced gay.

Someone had rubbed the latter in the utterly wrong way.

The shiny dyes got bleached and hit the hay

In their loose-fitting ebon negligee.

The sky was given a black card for violating fair play.

And in the smoked up blue, this overfilled ashtray,

Egregiously dried up and wrinkled like shar-pei,

We saw a vast and threatening array

Of clouds sinister and grey

Devouring splendour of the day.

It sprinkled our appetizer with black caraway,

And falling short of expectations never got our hands on an entrée,

It viced the sky and feasted on its small flamboyant alleyway.

The whole bald shiny section had a cover of dark-haired toupee.

It didn’t fancy getting soaked so it put on a black beret.



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