COMPOSING AN EULOGY

It was only yesterday, that
I wished to compose an eulogy on the death of man;
They said, man is dead and its remnants are all scattered,
Like tatters strewn all over a raunchy street
Like unpublished poems of some anonymous fireflies
Like the fabled alteration of hope
Like a poem in hurry, all gloss and some lethargic comments.
It was only yesterday, that
I wished to bury the hatchet, against an animosity called writing
With certain last page for a torn folio;
They said, there’s nothing like last page, it’s always like
The first draft that got drown in the sea of disbelief.
Man are never to be trusted!
Little while ago, a broken window and
A heap of cow dung, and
Few flies above, that hovered like some sequential paradox
They seduced me and I forgot to blame the howlers
For all the nasty euphemism;
They said, I look lot like a closeup man, ready
To be impaled and jeer for what I have siege a subtext within a rhyme.
That’s half truth and another half naked:
Me writing poems;
I blame if for who I am!

***(July 16, 2009)***