First read at Radio Univers, UG. 15th Jan, 07.
As we sat under the tree
The wine filled the sky
And forms dew on our face
To rain a consent of meditation
The world ceases
In deference to our wine
The con in our wine
Cleanses the pong in the air
And if this be pooh-pooh
As drinkards
Alcohol and soup
Are like magnets
And not all drinkards
Are like like dried plantain
Awaiting soap process
Ask the president, the senator;
Ask my MP, my governor
They shall declare my evil
It decorates their rooms
It's the bravery to cowards
Comfort to the secluded
A taste is godly, unseen
A platform to vent your spleen
And a god to be revered
If and when we would decide to read poetry or a piece of discerning article a day, our world is, then headed for a change. No magic potion whatsoever: if there were, politicians would have used it a long time ago. Our mind is all that we have; the only exception to tricks of all corners and angles. Enjoy the luxury and peace of poetry...
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