Voice Of A Lousy Timid!

So, here I am, again with few blurts
Look closely, you will see the fizz in the slit
That’s not the blame,
But only an upshot from a night’s stay.

Blurts, in a civilized society, is only a froth
With or without passion.
And the noise it fills, is yet another excuse;
You know, the bastards and their holy wars,
Who really cares if the noise shields the gunshots?
Anyway, a slit was there
And those blurts within the cultural paradigm;
Not yet done, the fizz in the air
And the blemish within the pretext of servitude.

For me, they are just blurts, like my poems
Excuses, nuances and humanity.
So, few more blurts, few more slits
And the corresponding night,
That hardly brings a Good Morning,
It has few more pages to lived by.
For me, it is an upshot, and
My blurts are ever ready for the occasion.

Voice of a lousy timid, I guess!