The Fiery Slayer Poem by PARTHA SARATHI PAUL

O the eye of the day
You are not a phoenix.
May you outlive
Myriad of Methuselah
You too have three prime phases of life
And now you suffer the male-menopause.
You may grow though perilously
Into a large terrible giant
And devour all the parasitic subordinates
Those lie within your spherical parameter,
Fume the deadly fire like a fire-dragon
And belch the volcanic profuse heat
That’ll shrink and shrivel the innocent things,
All the siblings will go mute in ashes
But your red fiery aggressive audacity
ls fated to meet with the damn diminution.
O the bullshit ravaging bully
You’ll die a pale, dwarf death
And lose in the endless hall of
Eternal darkness; stark, pitch black!
May the flowing brooks cease to run
Under the white shroud’s impish fun.
Before you’re buried in the dark hole,
But you’ll not be spared for your satanic role.
Be on dieting lest you be too corpulent
You feed on your blood though opulent
Once all run dry you’ll turn just a fraudulent.