I am talking to myself and my walls
as I feel reverberated with gumption
that has no definition; but just happens
like a breeze that becomes fecund
like a premature bloom that challenges
the regularity of nature’s patterns
like an extempore who discovers
his outspokenness suddenly
but has no listeners.
But am I to blame for the snub
of the nature of men
whose decadence gives them
their only sense of belonging,
of longing. I may be nonsense
but, I think, even my conjecture
makes your achievements trivial
I know this societal garb is but garbage
that collects in landfills of today
to nuisance posterity as an insult to it.
I feel disheartened to say, that my wisdom
is mildewing by age, in an age that
provides it with undeserved oblivion
I do not understand how evil
has foraged the savannahs of virtue
stranding me in justice’s aborted trip
As his treacherous conscience has no guilt trip!
montes-musings.blog 