Search This Blog

Thursday, 18 August 2011



Baconesque, open-mouthed-mute shout:

"It is you! Not me - you!"

If it wasn't for your beauty

This wouldn't've come about!

Blame the gods for your ravishment,

I was only doing m'duty.

As a man with a propensity

And yen for the classic

In flesh and mind, exotic,

And all that is ultimately

Tragic and erotic,

I could not resist your allure,

I could not resist your charm,

And I would fight against any cure,

And would rather feel harm,

For this lonely death is finer

And more exciting than

Any safe and humdrum old-timer.

Of youth I am a fan

Not of the grey, hoary and wan,

But of the fresh, no finer.

You got me the melancholy

And you shall get me cured,

You begat the evil folly

For which I'm injured.

Do not blast at my common sense,

Not at my empathy,

For intensity is my defense,

And love is my therapy.

I await my trial and charges

False, lies and uptrumped.

I will not change my style

Nor will I grovel and fall,

Slumped, abject and debased the while.

No comments: