We guise it so f***in well
imbue it in our Isi Meyaki and Gray Flannel
the incredible lid of dialectic materialism, Marxism
nihilism, romanticism Gucci, Armani Burberry
keeps in place the septic cesspool that is distilled
on pews, under minarets even deathbed
I often wish that muck on our minds
one day gets projected on the nth x nth
screen of limitless indigo
and fill the sky, stars and all the inter stellar spaces
with that stifling stench
* Originally inspired by Indira’s poems on child abuse but made it to the PH when Helen held the mirror stiflingly close to my nose in “Sun Worshipper”- I saw myself and threw up
hw many intellectual defences just to live...but then whoever lives?
Ooh! What did I do? Did I lift the lid on something? LOL! Good poem Rehan! HG: -) xx
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This makes me think of taking a dustbin lid and skidding all the way pass the stinking to outer space on it... now why is that? ? ?