The Humble Kingdom

Come on, Come on...
It’s time, it’s morning
The sour piece outscreaming sleep
It’s all right brother
Keep your rats off my satanic poise
Flutter, stammer but utter
Chukle but mutter
Intense truesome chaste
Do I know what is haste

Blow off, fly fly
Its eve with the burn out sky
From a dry tongue; averse to simpleton
Can I spell love
I'm un-granted to be a tiny bohemian
Unplanted and alienated
Tell who, what is owned
Sane got ground
So what surround; amid lonely sound

Buck sty, velvet hinges
Fortune stance to bewilderness
Of infant complainee, a forgetful rat
Pocketed playful gratefulness
Pile of stocks remaining
The humble kingdom continues to exist

:((
-A
http://arnabpal.blogspot.com