Mr Jetset
My friend,
My Judas,
Young,
Blond,
Athletic,
Pater
Pathetic.
Problem solved,
Mr Jetset
( my friend, my Judas).
I crawled on the
Moistened earth
To seek your help
Always due in due
Time
But busy as you are
And mysterious
On your recent
Activities,
I cannot judge.
O, my life is
Full of real misery.
If not weak,
Sick
If not free,
In a cage
Like a little
Bird singing
Its thrill
Of freedom
When no one’s
Around ( Really?).
Cortazar,
The syllable
Dance
On my tong
Like a forbidden
Fruit
Coz’ it’s too
Expensive
To sell and buy,
God forbid.
Slowly
The vision
Is changing,
I saw on the street
Each and everyone
With their own
Desires ( fulfilled
Or supressed)
And concessions
Appear in clouds
Of articial lights.
Only the sky
Remained pure.
But what is scandalous
To me , Mr Jetset,
Is the sacrificed
Friendship
On the altar
Of productivity,
Benefit margins,
Entrepreneural
Spirit,
so-called free
Choice
And totally
Selfish.
Now all your
Smiles seem
To be commercial,
Mercantile
But I can’t believe
It.
Brother,
Think of your
Brother
Nor a thief or
A junkie,
Or a well
Fare parasite,
Just a modest
Young man
From simple
Background
Trying
To get through
With his own
Real handicap.
K.B
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