What’s The Big Deal?
Miracle Man
October 20, 2023
Because with new fangle gadgets I’m out of touch,
so It takes me twice as long to do half as much.
Young sprouts think I’m a used up old fighter,
can they type a letter on my Royal typewriter?
Inventing new things makes the world go round,
most sub standard and didn’t last long I found.
Throughout my years I’ve outlived many a fad,
Usually pitched by women, most scantily clad,
Chogadella, chogadella
gleef a finkle, fangle doo
Sanking froth a wank forchella
bleetting hist la trencheled sloo
Calibali, spork n’ mally
jopelwanker deef walore
Ectaglancy, fallet plantsy
untwotopa feething glore
Mannyouopo, slifered glupoe
dangelation, clastig blaye
Homertempor gleeving sempor
happystead youngstuckers kaye
Gurf-a platted, lumbar chated
cheeperbrest du mingle bee
Chogadella, chogadella,
made up words for poetry
I can’t just ignore how tight it hugs me
How it caresses through my soul
How it exposes pretence of innocence overhaul
A touch of it sending goose bumps all over me
I can’t hide anymore, from beautified macabre
Coz its radiance reveals my dark silhouette
The mask unmasked, pulled off and shoved off
Am its pushover, adjunct to its whims and in it swept off
I can’t resist how I slide along its gooey surface
Ever since its appearance, smoothening rough edges,
My entire itinerary requisite sufficed
Back and forth am pushed, taking past hooey serious
To extremities that I could dare not imagine were precious
I sloth at time wasted on fingle-fangle,
With tremor and cowardice, had waved off
And wafted away pots upon pots of inviting cosset
But with it, my tour de force is world class and it I covet
The urge to stretch forth, pluck and sink my teeth
In both poisonous and supple, sweetened sour, to pleasure writhe
Lowering my bucket so deep in their pristine cisterns,
To just drink and drink from their forbidden cool rith
And quench my thirst, decade old thirst
As they call my name amid a bene placito!
It is a tale of love
concerning an event
of a story once
upon a time beholden
nature as it is
couldn't resist such a mystery
the forests, rivers moon and mountains
were resonating to consternations
of which site once upon found
if it were a golden search
the world would have been reporting
a narration may be concerning her own
ah! life were seeming to the side
of the air, like a new fangle adventure
was it all a beating of a true love?
nobody would tell
since the earth as it is
couldn't be rounded to such ersatz
nor all trees and their leaves
could in any way be lost to oblivions
no, nor horizon heavy with our
dreams could relinquish so far
to demand of tis a feeling
no bird, no catapillar, no termite
ever has a merit or ectacy and easness
to fancy so
now it is asked "what is the fate of such
a contemporary?" the answer is to faint
sooner or later with a tower
of a next rainbow coloured still love kind.
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