The Noise

Before it is too late to tell

the death of silence is noise

not all noise is to yell

but the clamour for a poise

 

Reading crucifixion of Christ in summer

calls for obsession with the sun that is hot

And in climate only to craft noise to murmmer

but the late rain unintentionally is a memory blot

 

Wear upon us a design that is vital

now that is the harbinger of mood

what to tell about Fascist idea a recital

only to die within the mob centrist brood

 

I seek  peace with noise in the ears

crafting life without gusto year after years

 

 

 

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