Short Inquests Poems

Those old poets and painters
In books and carved inscriptions 
on the streets, in old pages 
of time and its history 
from old struggles and inquests
and there is me and my journey
of human voyage and freedom
borne out from expression 
and desert, of many years 
of my belongings, in verses
the old hidden characters 
as I scrawl through my mind
few more, just one last moment
for amusement and seduction
as this mind embraces its nemesis!


Kashkin...

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No if in fact truth be told

On the contrary

Not only am i not only drowning

I am floating aboard a bubble

Whilst simultaneously both airing
and cleaning out my laundry

And don't forget as i am still
a serving politician

Say and throw whatever you
wish but mudd don't stick

As mudd is thicker than water

When it comes to independent
inquests resided over by 

The keeper of the secret skeletal
key's locked inside pandoras closet
box or cupboards...

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