To Kimi, whose troubled thoughts I twisted.
When I refuse to go
I refused to go to their ritual of perpetual shouting.
Their incessant plea to the skies on sunny days
Where their Redeemer sits up looking down
Beards unkempt, presiding over rotten life -
Himself pure.
But I refuse to join the mad shouts
Let the Old Man pour pepper
Into my eyes; I shall lay it open
Never blinking
When I refuse to go
It is because of fear for my own madness
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...
