Essy The Poet

Nothing's more menacing than a slow hand.  The tumtum dragged behind a slow band.  And the apple tart kneeded by a slow hand, I wasn't sure I saw right, his slow eye.  Begot a lazy harvest but not a lazy eater.  A creole of sorts, its genesis, a slow tongue  Caused a few slow linguistic deaths.   I forgive them all though; The slow hand, the slow eye, the slow tongue.  But a slow mind,  I shall never fall into that concession! 

A childhood acquaintance of mine proposes Nay, implies a separation of convenience He reveals to me lately, how his heart gets drawn And his mind is swooped by a scavenger of pawn. Into some new awakening of sorts. His eyes speak, his nose snorts His heart beats for the mercenary narcissist.   Glacial were the days, when I lost my buddy Indoctrination was so cruddy, braving towards the bloody Stop friend! Think friend! Wait friend! I won’t flee If you went to the trouble, I’d end up in Lee Or maybe the city morgue, never accorded an orgue The killing of a buddy by a buddy, a sad smorg Traitorous, callous, ruthless, a death of two souls.   I won’t take flight, from a friend’s fright. I shall endure bravely, the sword of adversary But a boon companion, whose pudenda I have won! From whom I have lent and borrowed? Whose daughter, my son might falter for? My childhood buddy, my teenage rascal, my adult theologian. Should we fall out, over an avaricious self-seeking rascal?  ...