May 29, 2015



How come the lilies become the lily-livered at the bellows

of the ranch of rancour?

Tis the random haze spurs beckons at thy beck ;

An atrophy with so much spits about sheltered from the scandals

Of its consequences ;

A lacuna that aeons fail to decipher ;

Hurled in uncommon knack-o fair sighted gallows canst not binge;

Steeped in the garrulous hanker of mutiny and robed with the

Girdle of a rocky mound and steely-grey-hack scribe

A retionated glee with much vaunted rejuvenation at the dunghill,

The old grandmaster wishes to go again ;

In the tempest of mangled vein ,knackered resolve and bruised ego ,

Clandestine bade it a Jolly fellow farewell ,

Not bellwether friends but fair-weather friends,

Like gales that blew as terror guns in the most dreadful hurricane of

human canyon;

Frenzied with tremendous winds that sought to smash to splinters

Mortal intrigues ;

And indisposed mien hung aloof on a caisson ;

Swept up in a monsoon and boats hurled In foaming billows and

flung overboard;

A terrifying power that struck mortal ego asunder for the surgery

of phantasmagoria psychophobiacs and jewel of indecision.


Cast amidst stormy seas ,blokes avalanche in fiasco mended no bruise ;

And deluged by tidal waves of bandwagon cascade;

Scribed in the pamphlet of astigmatism, a nebula of icon-bursting,

Genealogical malediction ;

A jittery of incertitude beguiled by denudation of unforeseen posterity.

Remorseless until the gallows fail to relief .


Well now, rebuke no more of repugnant verbal powers and ill-disposed customs

Glorying in the vile worm and dark spirit of disorder ;

See that revel in the minion of superficiality and superfluity of the gal ;

And may ease succour for miseries ,cajoling public treasure in trenches ,

The gargantuan prodigy of stale and a wondrous pale of derelicts

signifying nothing ;

But fire and brimstone parvenu and verve and gusto of pomposity.

Why hangs thee up thy braggarts of a brawl and heaves thy ilk’s up

above the rising tide?

May thy soul descend into abyss. May it descend indeed for the favour

of eternal bliss

Hewn in the paradox of stormy spikes ,with cavalcades trending hostile

Vessels amidst hostile storms ;

Alas ! drooping mules ,not dampened by foul effluvia of its obstreperous

Ships and cantankerous voyage ;

Had serfdom not the lot and prime heirloom of the apostate and devout serfs


Like spigots and geyser that never ceased its fountain .a pithy blanket and


Cascaded a tercentenary and a half until the find siècle




How well and ridiculous it turns the piety of the ages and courted flirtations

of the mighty ;

We jest , we fest ,we wrest but not clung to rabid wings ,hypochondriacally

and sallow-feast ;

Barrels of broken promises glided the seas in dread of logo phobia

To enhance the meanness of shallow orgy .


On a secluded island ,serenaded with tacit tales of gales ,

garb of epistemological robes and shuttling vessels of eschatology ,

Bled down ropes to the sea and scooped up sea water ;

Amidst extinguishing blazes inquiring for the hurricane voice ;

Tons of windy supplication sunk below seabed


‘’To which harbour shall we sail to find arbiter ?’’

Bombastic guttural of a captain lamented on the eve of drowning seas

with drooping mules ;

Never will the provincial bumpkin fits the saddle-prowls ,

Nor the high chaste and high hurdles of aristocracy ,erect a monumental

carriage ;

Asseverating and assertive enough to fit the fiddle of blarney stone- kisser

Without stench ;


Waiting for the hurricane voices frenetic pawns on the ages;

Neither yearning for the hurricane voice nor a zealot scribbled ,doggerel

Rhyme and thick shelf of grandiose scribe ;

With swooning gravity of martyrdom ,laden with the severest satire ;

Of the existentialism of human species .


Till frantic a demise to goof us dire

Till bliss to die and goons forever .

Tis the promptitude of fugacious drill of lofted pitch

Unction's artillery and munitions for headstrong hurricanes ;

A loin upon which we can regiment and the identity of true nationhood

To roll out the fastidious garb of the gunsmiths ;

upon the hurricane voice crocheted little horses filibustering ,

there is no end to search for a true identity of the drowning man.

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