You have learned a subtle difference...
The hair long and beard too- even the thick glass
lenses may create clever but never creative
The Poet is the one who got birth to Love
And out of it creates Universes to co-habit
He in fact reflects what his soul shows- the multitude
Of sigils- the symbols impregnated with entire lives
The one who still create and know how to read symbols
Yet he search to fill and he knows that the word he utters
Is a mere remnant of what the nacre from the fish-skin?
Has reflected from the Ocean of yet to be navigated
All hexes and curses taught by Harut and Marut in Babylonia
Are evolved into good and evil, yet the Good-will stands
Neutral recalling holy indifference as of Christ- The one who dies
For a Word is cursed by the Oath and the Dignity-
a paternal Bystander
Proud as Nobles and defeated Kings died in their Throne
I see everyday a Syrian Rue evaporating and
The white Cloak I wear to charge the brass vase
But the Solomon I am not
Pig- face poets- civet Cat odor poetesses and sneaky
Snakes wrapping the pendulum
The empty space assembles a row
Of torture paraphernalia
You who claim to be careful reader
Oh poor editor- for God sake
Why do you destroy the line with resembling?
Punctuations to the plague of the Country
We ought to live without asking
Why we are here
