Serried Ambience
At a time, when jumbling havoc,
Will solely seem to survive like duck,
Men shall solemnly grieve with you;
For you are full of shuffled chaos to few.
Risen and agile is: the void-superman,
Stone-hearted and fierce at some sight,
But your death would be an eyesaw,
As rescue-wind wouldn't step a-fore.
Oh, to the lewd women on stage;
Attendees to money and wasters of fates,
Ruiners of legality and twitchers of waist,
Lo, one at wit ends... calls death.
When the heavy escape is on,
Waste no time to wear running kits on,
Mourning misguided mind is at risk...
As one can't baste ghost with a mere fist.
©AUTHOR KELLY JUUZ
[A salient prolific author... ]
>28/05/2017
>03: 38pm
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem