Conceived in the womb
of rustic Earth, in cradles
of cemented cobbled streets.
Sculpted body arched cuts
carved out pangs of hunger,
an old man who was never there,
hollow eyes searching in rubble
and dust to foresee a clueless future,
bulging muscles fed on charades
of abuses, molded of violated
sexuality on menacing highways
Risen out of grim wreckage of a
wasted youth and cheap drugs.
Raw and visceral, he was to
be The Man…
Brilliant depiction. Loved it
Thanks dearest Shantanu, 🌹🌹🌹
My absolute pleasure 🌸🌸
🙏
Love how you ended this piece.
I am so glad that you liked it, the thought of this poem came while exercising somehow. Truly appreciate it!
Wonderfully written!!
Thanks alot Bill, for your ever encouraging words!
Always a pleasure!
🙏
https://wp.me/paBgxs-o4
Life is too short