‘Tis gathering storm
Of man said human,
Rendered deformed
By duplicitous demon,
Though given be life
As a privileged plus,
Man soon found ways
To turn planet to dust,
Where child eventual
May survive only just,
Thus so but the telling
He’d bow to fate’s say,
Fixed by man’s doing
In orchestrated play,
Distorting life journey
In a world gone astray,
Held to flee or to stand
On a predestined bane,
Of his narcissistic plan
In a gathering storm,
That has run out of rain!
begs find contradiction in time…!
Poetry on a Canapé 