#writerofinstagram

“I lied”

Written by me

Bg courtesy- Pinterest.

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i'm sorry to burst your bubble but i have to say it with utmost sincerity poems are not chopping sentences into endless pieces lack of structure interpunction and capital letters

which could simply be bits of a random prose a mail or a tweet written by a hairy monkey jumping and pressing random letters on the keyboard

nor are they necessarily a choice of polarising topics on which you give your takes so arrogantly dryly boringly i almost yawned myself to death bragging about your political correctness like those fatties in the government who let roots grow out of buttocks into their sofas

your sentences make the trees roll in their earthly graves for they were used to make paper on which you pour your godly inspiration but hey that's your kind of talent and even i gotta give you props for it

you so called modern poets don't know what it means to create word games imagery daydreaming melodies and let alone to have a thought that is actually your own

you who have no skills in wielding their verses write in spans of five minutes or maybe ten i don't want to overestimate you

that's why your poems are like a short script that could be composed even by a dog pooping on the asphalt

Let me feel you for eternity

Amplified music.

Fire drizzle.

Red, warm chilliflakes.

Her drink, cold,

Frozen in time.

She walks defiantly

Against all will and fate.

Towards all that now is hers.

Only to give it all away.

For,

Her heart is in the vales

Beyond seven seas.

Her body swaying,

To the seduction

Of a homegrown backyard.

Afterall the music is amplified.

Unfazed she walks.,

Daring the vapid white faces

To match her red brown nakedness.

Daring with a laugh.

To touch her carnal, flaming heart.

Dare.

Dare.

Afterall the music is amplified

And the bees are busy

Dropping honey

On her kissed, wet lips.

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