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by Xahir
Rated: ASR · Poetry · Satire · #1006454
my religious runway, very opiniative, despite personal regression i hold as one of my best
I see this man in twilight
He spoke as if he’s always right
I had nothing on him but he might
Serene were his words, he dressed as Christ

“Son, there is no significant other,
You live alone, no father no mother,
Look not into that darker night,
Pledge your soul onto your sight”

I looked up to his charismatic might
Liar! I thought, but he was so white
Dull stature and a duller guide
But he is not my master, I can’t reside

Posh gardens and Monster Mountains I hiked
Never felt the air so piped
Visions determined to retrocede
Gimmick and Ego on two diets

“You can run & you can hide,
Pity! You’r causing self-genocide,
Your kin you sins and jinxed gypsy stints,
All that’s not me will vaporize”

“Why don’t you try that lofty mound,
I can hear you with this entire whine,
You may run your content grounds,
Far! Huh! But you are bound!”

Hither sleep my brother’s hounds
Folly tally of cordial jolly fides
Malicious bully acting silly
Walking up and down the gavel rounds

He walked off with a propelling snide
I thought of time and known I bide
“Cannot charm me”, self-chide
My love is my only bride, pride!

He vanished into foggy gad
Lurchy, bumpy, slushy pad
“Good bye stranger, maybe you were right,
But I am wishly, I have not died”.
Another man comes down to exiled wade
“Come hither, I love you”, he lied
Wander not son, I found my child
“There is no heaven, there is no wild”

“I shall tell you what I mind,
Who is vicious who is kind,
Who is wise and who is rind,
Let me take you on this wind”

Now who is this devil who is this find
“Slay them down sit down and dine”,
I hear this feeling finer than fine
“Don’t get me down, doth not feel thy spine”

“What’s this voice why me lord,
Notch my bother notch my cord,
Put me off o taller word,
Gamble not on my glittering odds”

Sloppy i smile and dumber i cry
Weeping creeping anxious side
Don’t gaze this faded murky child
Rambled along, brier, spied

Logic, gothic oral jade
Written bitten never cad
Hither withers lusty rays
Pouty randy sloth’s parade

Gather along my bole o sine
Gypsy, hippy, tipsy lads
You may dabble or you may wine
Doth not kiss no lover’s reign

This is no lode there is no penalty
Nor is this just a chime
Conventionally speaking, it’s a crime
Hey, but you aren’t just a dime!

“Open your eyes to this final time,
Lofted senses grazing rhymes,
Fend your mind wallow off of this trippy bine,
This hath no ending, let’s try another pine”.

© Copyright 2005 Xahir (majidrajpar at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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