Treasure Island

Abdul Wahab

Mother of Modern Period

I was born
Baked and burn
Like a hurricane
In the vacuum
Swift away everything
Found in my way
Weightless, shallow and falsehood
Strangulated the period
Dark and ancient
Put a seed under the soil
To sprout out mediaeval
Enjoyed life fully
From brim to the lees
In my youth
I saw the epoch
Of the wave of all round
Progress and development
From materialism to the spiritualism

Slowly the curve
Started to turn down
So many cried foul
Wasted energy and time
To find out the causes
Of my shrinking balloon
Some even alleged
That my own ideology is
The culprit for all of my disease
But they have forgot
What the cause was
To illuminate the womb
Of dessert and seas
When they themselves lived
In dark caves!

Even on my death bed
I have given birth
The child of modern period
Of whom you are the fruitful product

Perhaps they do not know
The Elliot wave theory
In it everything repeats
After the interval of unit eight

So I think I know very well
What the medicine is
For the bitch which has bewitched me.

Submitted: Wednesday, December 26, 2012

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