Monday, November 30, 2009


Pale prince in a purchased palace
do you fear the nearing bands of brigands?
They roam by your home
and loom at your doom.
Women flee the streets,
shoppers drop their wares,
the armored wall guards tremble,
such savages sow terror,
the garrison rumbles from footsteps,
thousands obscure the sandy dunes,
you've left your people in a monsoon,
like an ill-planning buffoon.
By the river did flourish your harem
now foreign men see women and take them.
Icy cold is your stomach,
wet and warm on fingertips.

No comments: