The Dollar Beds. Poem by Subrata Ray

The Dollar Beds.
To repay my obligation on this earth,
The wild orgy behind my birth,
My Natural had the whim to wade,
The cozy-cosmos dollar beds.

Who cares Time if time passes away?
In gleeful green of the first May,
With moral burden on an inborn gay?
And dub orgasm in a composite bay.

The kings ask for the virgins to comply,
The priests approve the residues of the prize,
The gang-man, hang-man, the trumpet-major,
Blinding blunder operate the procedure,
To be dollared by bed in prancing shades,
Who needs bed-lock where beds are free,
As if a leased forest with thousand trees,
For Honey invites the money,
Like the cry of a sale with no farewell!

I never thought to create a reason,
The Black snake and the tigress are in the prison,
They hear no word of the foolish bards,
But bear the forbidden hell in their hearts.