Wednesday, October 7, 2015

I Often Wonder Do Beggars Have Dreams Of Becoming Rich Men

He thought I was a mystic
both beggars within a divide
dressed in my malang robes '
my rings barefeet a turban
on my head my true self from
him i tried to hide ..i told him
one day he would be rich i
truthfully lied ..he took me
aside ..he said my humility
please dont deride i am just
a beggar born a beggar on
the broken wings of poverty
astride god is also a king
of beggars my mentor my guide
before he made me a beggar he
danced on my beggarly soul he
disturbingly destroyed my pride
hope cavorting with misery both
by my side ,,a dreamer within my
dreams ..he spoke to me in silence
his tongue tied ..demystified ,,
god is the giver god provides '
i looked at him stupefied ,,
spiritually strong fortified

Enslaved To Fashion And Style

Metro sexual Man
wonders what to wear
what not to wear what
to bare takes him a while
his face devoid of a smile
on the soul of sartorial
serendipity irrevocably
beguiled libidinous virile
change of hairstyle to
his cosmic fate lifes ebb
flow reconciled covering
his anatomy with textile
when saddened morbid
mawkishly infantile shedding
tears like a crocodile ,,
sometimes his mind slithering
into nothingness like a slimy
reptile his flesh was willing
his soul erstwhile perennially
in exile .. doomed and defiled