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Rajit Bhargav Poem
That dreadful day i went over to play,
Husbands and wives, we called a date,
She said she would cook for the both of us,
And commit crimes of the flesh as it were the last of us,
Awkward talk, simmering broth and blood on the tablecloth,
With eyes wide shut i felt a prick,
She explained to me her usual shtick,
She took a page from the big bad wolf,
In this story i was little red riding hood,
Which makes grandmother a euphemism for?
Wait hold on, i think i digressed,
For her tale of trauma was hard to digest,
But i fail to empathize,
How a lifestyle choice to cannibalize brew from weak family ties,
Her gleeful enthusiasm i wasn’t able to share as i was served medium rare,
Chubby cheeks, dimple chin, rosy lips,
And i fell prey to her teeth within,
The night went on as was planned by me and by her
As i did seem to enter her
Copyright © Rajit Bhargav | Year Posted 2017
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Details |
Rajit Bhargav Poem
Your plight won’t be heard
You will be broken and hurt
Then things work out, you had fun got a job
Your boss reigns hell, apparently he means well
We skipped college in the verse
That time you sucked in maths, got a beating from the staff
Things that meant the world, now raise a chuckle and a laugh
Clock in clock out, now you have an overflowing purse
You relive you life, school, college and work
You choose to lead a miserable life so your son doesn’t end up a clerk
Now you pass on your name, time is 40 years too late
Your body is kept alive, for society you already died.
Copyright © Rajit Bhargav | Year Posted 2017
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