>≫Beckon Poem by Abdul Wahab

You know you carry
A bag which belongs to seventeenth century
Yet you pressurised people
To recognise you
As a poet
As a thinker
A pioneer of the post- modernism
That odd pill I swallowed once
And agreed with you all
As I wanted to make me sociable
But now I feel the adverse reaction
Of that expired medicine
Awkwardly Inside it creates
An aversion and nausea
So I recently vomit in disgust
People disagree and start to cry foul
I can not help but look at
How they are doings all the sins
Fit for going to hell
I can not agree with you any more
You reverse the wheel
And I can not walk along with the obsolete
As excellence beckons me.