RUNNING AGAINST THE CLOCK……Prasant Misra A stunner she may be… But I am not stoked I haven’t got yet, the feel Of her hand-out –touch She holds no brief… No brief for me, and Never kits me out When I think- ‘I can’t survive a kick… A kick in the teeth like this’ On the other hand She loves living it up ! Sees herself as the star turn… What a soldier… A wounded soldier like me Has to soldier on now ? Sell on her else ? Nothing….she is ‘gone time’ And I think, I only need her Like a hole in the head, Need to slaughter the sky hook In slap- dash way A message…a small print Now I have and it meets up With my mung condition Quite the thing- I must say-quite an event For a quantum leap, For fair crack of the whip… Rise…rise to the occasion my soul, Rise root and branch ! And see-how red clouds On the east horizon hold with you… Waits in the wings, a sunrise A radical , red hot sunrise…
Posted on: Fri, 02 Jan 2015 19:59:17 +0000
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