Under the Mango Tree

I ask for answers to my problem around midday, carpenters nailing tables beyond their voices. Thinkers building fence of gold, wiping the devil under the shadow of death. Callers piecing information together to make me who I am today, you cannot run from destiny to destructors. I catapult near avocado to advocate for the poor untimely the wind blows, demands pioneer to architect from rudimentary to modern society to salvage inequality. Dented face forces the truth to prevail as previous designed, conquer clumsy clerk from orchards. Cocktail love runs to my mind, mentality change my behavior, education cost my head to carry the middle galaxy from Italy to Sierra Leone. And the pole contracted each other imagination upon understanding the truth behind happy individual. Take time to take the talk by trek administration, I bank my sadness to avoid extrinsic. Hope is hopeless where you enemies decided on your esophagus, oxygen isn’t enough to deny me death. Love isn’t love until you nurture it in your veins to help your heart pumps thousands of liters of blood. I cannot stop thinking, asking too much, because it too late to cut slate by the snake to snub a short sack. Barrel bald my head, I cannot sleep from slack pant to pendulum, moving from shipwreck to rock star upon Starbucks. From stakeholders, to Stockholm, from Miami Beach to Aberdeen Beach the parallel line axis’s thinking widen as football field where fuel spills under the rock molded to maggots. The despotic runs to rule from the roll of red carpet rolled for the President to precise welcome malfeasant fascinated to fascist idea to kill Muslims, but you don’t kill Islam. The night sends emission of bright light to help lagged legend, from the beach to the lagoon , from nothing to something , I summon the sun with smile to summarize the sun to rise with me, so that in morning, I will antelope my signal to the enemies that I still think as I used to do. Maggie in soup, sugar in my cup of tea, I still imagine big, and I sue illiteracy. I blame my parents for not being enough to send me to school; look my thinking is so small, he cannot think out of the box. He always weeps and lament about fiasco and memory lane, If hope can change my future, I won’t look back to backbite the architect of my destiny. I won’t wallow in the mud and allow sleepless night to control me; my head could not stop aching with thinking. My bald head cannot invite flies to touchdown, despite I am poor. I warn you flies to stop landing on my bald head. It gives chance to fight the hurdles in life. Never look low at a child he/she is your helper tomorrow. And never smell your anus to get onus.