There he is,

Eyes blazing like a pair of pebbles a-fire,

With tubers of outcrops

Stubbornly daring any matchet

To a match of strength

Ffom acranium billowing out smoke;

From a pia mater that knew yesterday

But remains today’s stranger.

His clothes, pecked all over,

More from abuse than age,

Flows indecorously about his vegetable frame,

Like a fountain of brackish water.

His eyes flicker an unpredictable outrage

As his mouth mutters incomprehensible jargon

Each time the tuber of death

Takes a momentary breath of air

Only to make a U-turn:

A slave of an incorrigible habit

You have almost ridden yourself

To an existence of no return.

Yet be assured hope still lingers in your bosom

If you so desire to cuddle it.

But as long as hair grows on teeth

And shadow has an independent will of its master

Or yet goats utter human language

For now,in all your majestic wisdom,

The world moves on its hind parts