Email Poem

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Poem


I have slept while awake,
And on an oneiric trip,
To stroll down the street;
And prognosticate in these rays,
Behold the white monster,
With a mask to fissile...
So, I peeped through the lens,
Of my conscience, my acme!

The future is nude and rude,
When I ask, why the quotidian;
The terror in her voice trembles,
The mightiest of the old...
Even in their red badge of robes,
The future wears the crown,
Of a fire emitting dragon,
Opening her claws like Hamlet’s sword
While I sat through it in a lingerie!
The sight has omitted me;
Leaving me not near the latrines;
As I sat far in the future, 
My time had past and I’m no more,
This trip is fast yet slow in thoughts, 
The insight of her bailiwick;

These lines are bigger than books,
Longer and truly soaring in croaks,
I see building falling, crashing to the down,
The silhouette of this prescience emote,
With the doughty of illusion, 
The gumption to trenchant signet,
To tell you a folklore about a geographer, 
Who saw the end of the empty earth!
So, I couldn’t think of anything new again;
The words, grammar and everything gone,

Leaving solitary an empty lexicographer!
Please take my honest nunnery words,
While you work and hard to beat acme,
Remember to take care of yourself, 
External and internally for eternity awaits,
For in the final end of an ululating time;
Death smiles at us all,
And all a man can do is to smile back.
Sorry to tell you that I’m back,
From my short terrifying trip...
And truly the shadows were of a dream.!

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