Eric G. Alleyne
Port of Spain Trinidad

Tiger's Lair

There are too many scents of the world in this place
Clear this Zen Garden before it becomes a disgrace
The ripples of negative and dank sins remains
The hidden agendas, the darkened windowpanes
The policy of the hypocrites dot the walls and the floors
Scream to the oppressed, jerring your emotions and taunting your psychy to do more
All there was the rules of a foolish and stupid creation
Imagine that thinking it is the creator, now that the most impossible mission
Welcome to those that talk and cannot be heard
The gift too rare the spoken and the unspoken word
This is to those that gather webs and the thing that go bump in the night
Onward and upwards for a first class flight
A way to ease many and adjust altered line of sights
It pales the mind's eye to know that the human being is in the height of it's evoloution
Yet grounded in her search for true dedication and devotion
Rather have Peter, Tom and Paul
The falsehoods, the orgies, the barbarians, the blood covered walls
Now and then there comes on the horizion
A champion to the cause, the first of many for the next generation
So when they ask who is this Prince of the Prose
Contact the Author
Only heaven knows
Got a line of sight on the new troupadire
The new lion tamer in the Tiger's Lair
Thursday, May 17, 2007
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