Odd bell

He arose and waited for a breath of Entertainer who rocks,

The Wild and not so wild people sitting around the bar,

hardly he bent about the mirror where he saw a sign of strangulation,

a mark on the mirror as elaborating the hangman who lurch behind shadows,

and slit the throat of mad men who haven’t found meaning in the money,

honey money as he would call the joke a blatant soul searching,

The madmen laughing crazily in the mirror as he saw hallucinating,

purple coloured little angel winding up way with the porn in the making,

a crude laughter laughing the coarse Gods who witnessed the Queen of France,

talking to literati about the social assistance for the poor and the needy.


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