Gilded but disinherited loner
With impious smile is crossing streets;
Skeletons’ jumping in dirty puddles
Frail but solidified scent of decadence,
Of decaying existence, hollow and obscure
Is filling his lungs while slurping
Tears from his broken cup.
Lucid serenity of abandoned road
No fireworks will greet his worn out coat
But angst of fledging voyager,
Disdained toward all that is accepted
When ‘nothing’ is taking for granted
He’s grinning and refuse to shake hands
With affluent gentleman with red right hand.
Wizened and sour vultures are circling
Waiting, searching for the right moment
Seeking fragile point where their knife
Can landed and where bloody fountain
Will be spraying all around;
So they doting with genuflection
So they flatter with spleen in the eye
Wreathing when tiredness and doubt
Creep in; Then they ravish and feel praised.
Their swarm-like words carouse
Brimming with kisses and promises
But Sad-eyed bereft knows this menagerie
From where they came from
And nevertheless he walks to their chamber
Pretending that the stench he senses
Is scent of cute red roses.
Consecrating yesterday, refusing tomorrow
He counts his breaths and observe
Quietly with common sense emboldened;
Endures fetid nard they propose,
Accepts tedious repetitive conversations
Because he knows that great joy
Cannot be recognized without knowledge
About agony.