No channel skipping ..no flannel...it was so gripping…hearts melt…Pant's ripping svelte pelt and belt..stripping and whipping..the fab never drab Rishab lab..was it real..felt like I was tripping… no pipping..surreal cartwheel flipping..
Some verse about the Panto Pant curse…does traverse…like a hearse….won’t reimburse..adverse bowlers terse..things getting worse…reputations nurse…Rishab flash panache smash and grab..rehearse that ramp reverse..in his own homegrown perverse.. with only himself will converse..no fretting..go getting…record setting universe..
Now has outshone and outdone..shoves show pony Dhoni.. as the Indian man alright talisman with the gloves everybody loves with the most tons..holy moly..more three figures scores on England tours than the folklore of before..Sunny and Kohli..
Records splattered shattered..gallivanting Pant parade..cascade and cavalcade …flattered .. Rishab paddled..bowlers addled and raddled..skedaddled
Ignore any naysayer…prime sublime Pantomimes…haymaker…cocktail shaker…p**s taker…tik tok peacocker..run for fun maker…cool cat with the bat..almost indecent crimes..the Indian’s best test player and slayer of recent times..
Categories:
haymaker, sports,
Form: Free verse
He undresses rumor to reveal lies
this is how the desperate man cries,
Extra Extra he tries to sadden ya,
a bundle of rancor rambles from the shambles of his shame
finding form on a page of purely personal pathos
what he can't have he taunts,
flaunts falsehood as fact in commiserating style,
vulgar and vile such as pornographic propaganda
designed to compell despair with poisened air,
what does he care, loyalty he knows not how to share,
decorum just a ditch in the swamp of his heart,
hurt hurt hurt is the mantra of his yellow emotion
a mud temple is his refuge,
burn love, ravage respect, ruin reputation
is the curve in his grimace, the grime in his game,
even the news stands have rejected his rank rubbish,
a character assassinator eliminated by the Poet's assembly,
take your delusional drama to the closet playa
hang it on a hanger of humbled heresy,
your rusty razor shall not go "haymaker" anymore
remain in your "hayfever" brought on by Truth's retribution,
a wedge maker is your legacy, a virtuous man your fallacy -
J.A.B.
Categories:
haymaker, bullying,
Form: Epitaph