Sitting alone in a broken obelisk
doth my thought evoke the genesis
and evolution of raw ode, practiced
of paupers and rich in every cities.
Meritocracy lingers, to augur peace
with full backup from west to east,
south and north, even beyond our vista beliefs.
The land is correctly spelt peace
in permission of man’s wills.
Ding dong, a sound from ode we dance.
It glitters for cripples to glance dance.
Merry is the heart of all in attendance.
Nature itself attest in no resemblance.
Not long as our spirit is in the realm
colourful stain took our hem.
And drain soak it in elegaic emblem
As to give cracked miffed cadence maim
to our blessed ode, a name
and tie that bound sealed our main
reason for existence, now stained.
It would have been better
if only our ode faced the dark disaster,
leaving us to our way to wander
till the piece of the lost ecstacy is tendered.
But it pressed down its order
on us to dance its horrendous pitter- patter.
Caressing our soul to lurch in its sinister.
Oh! With tears we clap for laughter.
Brother! How doth the landmark betrayed?
Who pierced a hollow for our ode to sway
At the herald of what is ode led astrayed.
Who plucked the eyes of our conscience to sway?
Curse be the very day
the sweet palliness of we saint
turned sour in the heart of him that betrayed
the ode we play pay prayed.
THE BLEEDING PEN
GIANT INK MAKING IMPACT….
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