Monday, 22 November 2010

Flights of Fancy

It was a time like this, I remember
Dull as ever, juice of life’s sweetness dry
I was seated beside my kinsman
Drinking from the cup of sorrow
He complained of hunger-pangs
Said that if he won’t bite anything
Two nights from now
Then, as a duty, I shall bury his carcass
I offered him a life-saving stratagem
“It’s all about the mind, this hunger thing”
His once sunken eyes glared and glowed
“Think that you ate your fill. Think that your meals are timed.
Program it in the mind and you’ll bid farewell to hunger”
The glow faded and the eyes
Retreated to their cubbyholes
“Kinsman,” I went on, “look at the rich bloke. Matter of fact, I’ve seen them nibble at fried chicken, pay the bill and dash to a business function…”
“Strange thing about that?”
“Of course the man manages a pot-belly. Credit to positive thinking.”
My discourse hung suspended loosely
Between the man’ s ear-hole and ear-drum
Anyway, my line of thinking
Earned me this hellish scar
From my kinsman
Lurking in the shadows of hollowness.

C) Lorot Salem 2010


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