The Merriment In Sitting With The Eminents Poem by abdurrahman sirajudeen

I chat with class of eminents in my class. Sitting Beside them I procure a gracious grace. They
Surround my proximity. My affairs. My vicinity.
Every sounds they ring inject my skin. Although
They are at remote to me, indeed they are
But abreast of me.

I sit with the so-called 'eminents.' Enjoyment
Powerize their imagination. Dwelling in smoke of Hallucinatory Cosmology promotes their happiness.
'I will have money pass you' never ceases to exit in their voice For second.

We all sight a man from afar, summoning the
Populace to show our ways. The eminents and 'The' me hardly Hear not the man. He sounds like whistle. Blowing 'The him in him' as he could.
The eminents behave as they wish. Taking pics, flattering one another, Urging each other to proceed in disturbance.

The man notice. He sense fatigueness in eyes. He vowed to vanish soonest. But the eminents are happy, joyful for his conclusion.
The dullard are frail. Perturb. Worry.
The man disappears.
The eminents smile.
The dullards sob.
Alas! The class turns market, the market turns graveyard.
Everybody sows the reap of his actions.