If you happen to be in the wild
You may roam for a while
Till you isolate a part that’s mild
And find solace in exile.
***
Far away from your essence
You see a broken road to the pie
You offer it resistance
But your heart craves for the sky.
***
Comes down like a hammer of hail
Or so it seems to your head
You get struck by the leopard’s tail
You hallucinate instead
***
You see the word and the coin
Pen verses out of strain
Seek the two to adjoin
Ending in sheer mess and pain
***
The authorities are mad
For they have made us see
That the word and the coin
Were never made for poetry!
Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 6:57 AM UTC
If you happen to be in the wild
You may roam for a while
Till you isolate a part that’s mild
And find solace in exile.
***
Far away from your essence
You see a broken road to the pie
You offer it resistance
But your heart craves for the sky.
***
Comes down like a hammer of hail
Or so it seems to your head
You get struck by the leopard’s tail
You hallucinate instead
***
You see the word and the coin
Pen verses out of strain
Seek the two to adjoin
Ending in sheer mess and pain
***
The authorities are mad
For they have made us see
That the word and the coin
Were never made for poetry!