Words are cry baby's laughing waters
Streaming from its eyes without its salt .
You do not remember when the last
Laugh occurred and a cry turned about
In syllables, like glistening pearl-drops
Of words slow -forming like night dew.
The eyes will laugh at your cry primally
In the deep belly where it will hurt softly
In a sense making effort, of your world
Dying gradually from a ludicrous effort.
Cry from stomach was a wasted effort
At collecting lung air, at making sense
Of a chaotic world, of a mother to die
To cry for and about, to mourn in early.
Posted at 02:49 pm by adukuri