Three score years ago, he was born... in beat.
As a baby, he slept, woke, drank and slept .. not wheat.
Soon a boy, in ennui he remained.. on defeat.
Teenage years, were a stretch of boredom.. so sweet.
A girl, she married Keshab, and was soon yawning.. on the seat.
Their life together, unadulterated humdrum...go cheer.
They produced no children... King Lear.
Lest the unending dreariness be broken.. be near.
And they existed, the two of them...the bier.
For a few dozen years .. oh feet.
Their excrements, the only contribution... ok, heat.
To the world, the earth, to humanity...pretty neat.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment