[UnbornBuddha]

Give praise to all the lovely poets
Before inducing their apoptosis.
Truth is an illusory motion,
A lunatic's deluded moment.
Chaos as a luminous mural
Showing the vain futility of humanist order.
Musically carrying Mozart's disorder
Overtly borderline, wholehearted performance.
Orchestral blend of the harp and accordion
Alluring sound that tarnishes mortals.
Carpal tunnel nerve and carnage burning
But still writing of sparkling coral
And apple orchids in autumn.
Finding euphoria in albums
I thought I'll never listen to.
Music where the spirit moves
Trying to mirror the ebb and flows.
The foot taps as the tempo goes
Climaxing... angelic moans
With every crescendo note.
A symphony in poetic prose
Monochrome turns red and gold
A sheik finds his way back home.
And although,
His earthly pain was gross
Demarcating his bones
Scathing his soles, his journey continued
Despite the contorted sinews.