I take refuge in poetry
Where poverty blossoms
Women’s feet leave not a print
And the stomach gets drunk on tap water.

Imprisoned in a shed, situated
At the back of my mind I have
Scared life away from me
‘Tis also the case vice-versa
I try to keep a harmonious tongue
But good people? You have
Witnessed for yourselves
Some folk crave a brutal answer.

The primitive man
With qualifications
The sober man
With hallucinations
The right honourable gentleman
With wrong un-honourable expenses
I take refuge in poetry
Squatting between the sentences.

We don’t really know exactly
What we are doing, we just follow
Things and see where it takes us
Never mind purchasing luxury
To even get a smile is all “subject to status”
I take refuge in poetry
Whether written by me the fool
Or them! ... the old sages.