By Prateek Joshi
A time with a mead in middle, a thousand spread letters around
Like the ink off it spill in alms of worshipers - a time to meddle about
A carriage to hold the drinks, near the alley that whispers sin
With bestowed brevity that brings a kiss to its wit, brings our will to its bit
Perched about, cold blooded, hearts dried, veins pierced with lust
We have outlived our hopes; clearly they weren't meant for us.
Timed a play to put our part to witch about the nestled path;
and in it ply the peers who pour their mirror's shards.
I see vagrants pull a wake, and the gays are in parade,
Where there were callous cat calls, a car's hatch serenades.
Whether the ghouls will join us is a train I do not share
We have bra-barians locked in talks; they skewed beyond the haze.
In the abhorred valley that lies between boobs, are dicks who do only just good
But we are in want for some brains who fall for the same - no shame, but haram
If you punch to pull a twat off his game, jeered yells will call your name
Undone, disagree! Shove him because we're all love, no parody.