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“Greetings from Xanadu’
caressing voice wakes up slumbering soul
heard, unheard tales on roll
naive listener a rocking doll.
Every evening turns so torrid
sores in all pores make them putrid,
poetic laments, prosaic problems, critical views…
astute avatar soul mate for all.
Millions of hopefuls, greenhorn every one,
Russian roulette, mauling by choice.
Tissues are scarce, dumped in the bin,
use and throw culture staple of vultures…
half opened door lures to step in or step out…
tavern keeper decides, not the tourist! |
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