Thursday, September 18, 2008

The Clock Strikes..

4 O' Clock,
another string cut,
another hour jammed,
blue floats around
Because RED is banned!

Stone to dust,
Clay to Ash,
a small metamorphosis,
The intangible clash.

Empty roads,
Balloons of Mud,
The static buzzing
of the black unplugged..

Repeated pages,
of rusty books,
morals caged tightly,
beneath loose bra hooks.

Crumbs of food,
flushed by caffeine,
in floating e-mails,
Is lost the LSD dream...

Another message,
the common noise,
But the child doesn't stop wailing,
no one has repaired his Toys.

Go, Begone..
Another dawn shall rise,
when we shall have our burgers,
with our incoherent fries.

In tomorrow's frames,
we shall wait for Prufrock,
He is sure to arrive,
Before 4O' Clock.

1 comment:

Jagjit said...

Your writing style is somewhat picturesque. Liked it.