If Angels Went Errands
Had i known; angels
went on errands;
Indolent my flesh
must
grow,
Surf in wealth of no
labour to show
Stuck to my solfa with
popcorn bowl,
Watch my polo
squeezed to no
damp,
My belle filled with
not
hassle.
I choose to live like
Pharaoh and his
knights.
My poemdom on one
dais, much better;
A pinacle; spill my ink
for my only labour.
My imagination; hope
not as lucifers'
Gehenna! No o!
Even as i spill my
restless ink
I hear not all errand
they honour.
O! How imaginations
please my unlanguid
mind.
Copyright © Izee Israel | Year Posted 2013
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