As I awake
To day anew,
A gift to take
Life to renew,
Fugacious stay
Be of fates will,
As each new day
For time to fill,
In meagre way
If but to have
Chosen align,
Even if halved
By failing gods
Who fall behind,
With dated skills
In garbled minds,
Too aged to fulfil
Their role per se,
Fearing their state
Renders man still,
The while awake
Should fate so will!
‘Twas a story above,
Composed per se
In false sense of love,
Though unwittingly so
As a reclusive being
In a despairing soul,
Sadly failed seeing
Might find indulge,
An impassioned role!
On day six
The gods did fashion
A creature thick
They labelled man,
Save on day seven
Concept was panned,
As but a failed trick,
And forced to confess
‘Twas their worst yet,
This lowest living form
The world would get,
And gods coined human …
Thus without a soul
Ingredient main
In held man’s role,
Ideated in its stead
Implanting greed
To complete its head,
Yet would err apart,
By the omit of a heart…
Hence till all be dust
This fashioned man,
Be a merchant of greed
Who’d forever fuss,
To feed an inexorable lust!
~ a cry for woman to usurp,
considering man’s record ~
Poetry on a Canapé 