Oof that soul entombed in misery!
The ragamuffin, the beggar,
Great potter’s potsherd he was,
Those decaying, yellow teeth
splashed and sprayed this world
with misery and incurable jaundice.
His trifle weight could outweigh
the fattest people in the street,
And eyes ever so colourless
could gobble down springs all.
The ears like the deepest gorges,
could accommodate a billion sympathies
and countless words soft,
The tongue would talk to millions,
if the opportunity arose,
Alas, the milling humanity around
pretended not to be visible at all,
People scampered past with the
careful eyes of a cautious thief;--
saving both their conscience and money.
His emotions lay buried deep
in his famished breast,
This was his treasure trove,
He kept it safe,
Afraid to take them out,
lest they slaughter these as well,
His bleeding heart would have
painted this planet in gloomy red.
A dog, cat poop, wrappers, dust, snoot, phlegm,
And he just another addition to these,
Almost indiscernible in his insect kingdom,--
Dusting, rottening, petty and cast-out.
The accusing emptiness,
And the hallowed universe around,
Holding his mocking lighthouse,
Throwing feeble, exposing light over the
fallacies lolloping under the abounding waves
of the booming sea of hilarity and well-being.
