Factually fictitious
December 15, 2011 Leave a comment
Myriad are the ways of creation,
And prickly, as ever, the almagation.
Ain’t it hard to spot a speck?
The self seems to be so perfect.
Over-populating theses
with over populated geniuses;
Never finding any common ground
to spin the circle round.
What’s the mantra modern?
Overlooked has been the sub-urban.
It all looks well on paper;
Defacing are for paupers!
I am tired but I am not bound.
Spiritualised but nothing’s sound.
The soul is created the same;
Our reluctance is all but a shame.