The absence of copula,
black and white to and fro,
Pidgins broke the rules.
Yu spik a long tang,
ol rul mas stop, Braddah.
Into colonial subjugation,
Pidgin has no future, stalemate.
Falls under freedom of slavery,
let's have an interracial,
the bukkake of licentia poetica.
In transit of soul,
when you were under siege,
you got a new number for afterlife
wearing a white robe-
and could see right through
your past picking up the
lips from the despair
of ancient dream.
Will you catch the honeydew
dripping from the eternal tree
of life ? Have you seen night-
blooming flames gouging-
the intrigues from the black
walls ?There has been a deepening
sense of despair. The venus is
ready to unrobe in full glare of sun.
Satish Verma
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