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A Pub Halfway to the Heavy Affair
The largest part of this abandoned warehouse
for creative dilemma is still in the ash medium
from you reach.
Though you’ve part of this morning haze that won’t go unrecognized.
Now that we’ve finally managed to right away ahead of our views across the bridge, it seems that elsewhere you’ve made every effort to prove yourself with your wrongly right-minded people, an iota of one-dimensional news data will be at all our throats.
We taste our sweat.
I must leave you now.
Suddenly, I feel better.
That’s why you’re still a business man & that’s been at least 20 years.
You remember how they were treated with such suspicion of the rage surged up inside
& we can’t surmise what happened.
You know something about this result that surpassed my expectations.
This is a surplus land, a flash & one of those immaculate English smiles on the beetle-browed face.
That cultural shock we’ve had, we’ve covered from the rest of us
we’re determined never to surrender, we’ve plenty of those surges as well. This is just behind the beefy man. This is not a Russian-American exchange project.
It’s far too far from your surly waitress who’s bathing today at your place. I see it under surveillance
but the sewers burst again for the second time this season.
But you’re still the man who’s as slim as a teenager in old clothes
I can’t be very well leaving all the terms out. This is all there
with a lot of lines on the forehead. I maintain your coiffure for good. Remember you’re still a conscientious objector in a uniform, a colony of citadel, breathing, you get comeuppance at the end of the play. This isn’t too happy, if I may add. Kind of tired, you know?
Copyright ©
Jacob Kobina Ayiah Mensah
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