Indian Quickie

The muse is like gurgling coffee within the poet ready to ooze. Home study primer serving poetry quickie’s off the shelf. Lesser mortals have run off with the muse. Crying foul? Nobility gone, ladies have polished their parlour smiles. Brain drain from Manchester, the pull down micro mini muse. ‘Hello Madam!’ Mellows Derozio, the idol smashing heathen. Mother Kali, chastening beer swinging reckless Indians. Indian gallant chivalry whoring around after firang Gods? Poetry is the exploding of image words, larger than life. Super coherence of the conscious-unconscious thought. The Hologram of expanding known or unknown elements. Over to Plato, Good emotions? ‘Indian taste, Chetna’ - No good!