Five Days

Five days on

writing this language in this tongue

mesmorizing melancholy mirages

supplementing superficious images in place

of wholly delicious fruit of temptation

to the downfall of Adam's blame

on eve of the un-holy sacrament

produced by His own offspring

who have sprung forth of His leave

to extremes of free will

which to their surprise

was a first amongst unborn children

but routinely from then on

for most of higher distinctive grounds

those unhinged from reality

in deep underground caves

where men amongst mortal beings suffer

dilligently in works of great love

and lore composing works that adore

many amore from old floors

beneath ones floored

in copper stones

no one dares speak of anymore

in fear of those whom seem queer

and un-gay in life's prominently too un-true crowd

of festivities celibrating trivial pursuits of labour

for fruit of the day

merely to sell it at the quay

making a wage

to drown the rest of this fine day

in bombay

lost inbetween a haze

of which to say to better the maze

in-to-which a mouse would surely get lost

if not for it's habit

of wandering back to it's lot

so communal in thought

and forgetting not the game it plays

not for the lack of wanting to stop.


				Five Days



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								Five days on writing this language in this tongue mesmorizing melancholy mirages supplementing superficious images in place of wholly delicious fruit of temptation to the downfall of Adam's blame on eve of the un-holy sacrament produced by His own offspring who have sprung forth of His leave to extremes of free will which to their surprise was a first amongst unborn children but routinely from then on for most of higher distinctive grounds those unhinged from reality in deep underground caves where men amongst mortal beings suffer dilligently in works of great love and lore composing works that adore many amore from old floors beneath ones floored in copper stones no one dares speak of anymore in fear of those whom seem queer and un-gay in life's prominently too un-true crowd of festivities celibrating trivial pursuits of labour for fruit of the day merely to sell it at the quay making a wage to drown the rest of this fine day in bombay lost inbetween a haze of which to say to better the maze in-to-which a mouse would surely get lost if not for it's habit of wandering back to it's lot so communal in thought and forgetting not the game it plays not for the lack of wanting to stop.



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