Monday, July 15, 2013


Lost in clouds, when back to senses,
For it wasn't too late, putting,
And in the way of it, admitting,
When thought, were my resemblances.

Never was there, his inner bent,
Though, somewhere haunting,
And dust-ups, partly resolving
Ready, to come on another argument.

Here is the time of flow in fetters,

where matters deep run and float,
Often to resolve a buried play, 
to function and dote.

Where have these matters been staying?
An attempt lost in brazening those out,
Forgiveness does not work anymore,
Those clocks crumble and clout!
He, blinked the eyes as if drawing hers,
Moving in images, imagining,
The beats rested, yet pounding,
Nothing was much to say in whispers.

So on he went to pour tears galore,
In the seam, the space seeing,
For that, the eyes pinning,
In verity, he, somewhere offshore!

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