Saturday, September 6, 2008


Too much! I can’t bear the sight of the moon,

Of sweet tranquility, with sparkling stars

On a long-drawn-out sands of the sea

In a sight oh too awesome to behold!


Too much! I can’t bear the light on my face,

Of limelight, commending with an ovation

The very much fakes standing by the side

All lined up devious as a cobra can be!


Too much! I can’t bear the scent of perfumes,

Of clouded smokes, billowing like aureoles;

Of these incense, a stench most revile foul

Puffed from heartless mindless fools!


Too much! I can’t bear the choking studies,

Of a profound knowledge, critically mindful;

Of securing better hope, and a bright future

All’s a cliché, as it bites the hand that feeds!


Too much! I can’t bear the loving smudge,

Of being blatantly affectionate, adorable;

Of being overtly concerned, so caring

Bah! Lycanthropes in indebted form!


Too much! I can’t bear the beating heart,

Of a beautiful smile, a joking manner;

Of joviality so crude, a resounding pretense,

`Tis an atomic bomb stealthily preying!


Too much! I can’t bear imagining in time,

Of what wonders could be achieved

Or what joys complete, what faith proceeds

Beware all is a void, to vacate another!


Too much! I can’t bear the pledge of promise,

Of a sound propinquity, a trust it builds

On a believing basis, securing all hostilities

Beckon beforehand! Promises come undone!


Too much! I can’t bear the sweet smelling lilies,

Of roses, daisies, forget-me-nots, and tulips

On a bouquet, not a sentence can ever express

Such a paradox lie, told by a trusted moronic!


Too much! I can’t bear the sun’s morn shine,

Of enriching vitamins, of dark-coloured tan

On a tendered skin, growing flaccid in time;

Such a benefiting purpose goes awry!


Too much! I can’t bear the water deep,

Of a blizzard Celsius, frozen as glaciers;

Of a volcanic Kelvin, searing as the Sol

Oh such temperament! So confusing!


Too much! I can’t bear the clowning,

Of a wigged donned professional feign;

Of a humorous charlatan disorder

A double-dealer with a brain!


Too much! I can’t bear the constant chatter,

Of a little jokes, a few sentence of sarcasm;

Of profound gossiping, masses of praise;

A daggering tongue fit for the stakes!


Too much! I can’t bear the flowing music,

Of sweet symphony, a sense of serendipity,

Of modern rapping, a touch of porn groove

All a changing paradox in harmony!


Too much! I can’t bear the thick hair,

Of shampooed fragrant, smooth and soft,

Of all things: a throng infestation of lice

A constant bloodsucking irritant!

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