{The written lines are dedicated to those poetic souls whose pen will never touch the paper any more.}
Pranab k c
29/05/2014
Time rushes
to wipe out
your ejaculated
dogmas and drowsiness
your love and laughter
you just play
with your
pain and plumber
planted inside your passion
time rushes
to blow out your
master and masturbations
outside the root-chart
attaining graveyard
so pretend
to weave
a wave against the flow
as a man-child
rush speedy
to make the time
a stop to your feet
nothing more to achieve
nothing more
to vomit and to breed variety !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem