Pastoral

How deceptive our eyes
wouldn't be
As per that purity and that
dirty
The images before our sights
we could cuddle and phantasise
The colour of the earth is filthy
yet has it be
The state hapless be glare
without a twitch titch of pity
From remorse were spiky embraces in comely sizes
The looks of gore, hopeless
in lots ludicrously cured in curse
The iron-sheets be this brown and loosed full of wide pores
Lifeless remarks laces every recurring bit peep does.
The variation amid the rich and reduced to somber
On the artificial as against the spirit be air-able by their sheets:
Thatches where ave would house,
for hatches belongs to the needy
The affluent hands' carry no stones, broken bottles, spoilt wheels, tooth on lib...
Heaven's cruel and graces blindly openly just any Diddy
Yet we take rain in pails to gulp from His sky indulging our angst with the rib
Gave us agape as if life's parity, as with the have's and have not's with the sun's chide saying howdy!

©2016

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