Mental Modern Mental Hood

Ah Our childhood days,

Steaming past, the summer ablaze,

Boister and thrill entwined within the air,

Memories created through the winds of our hair

Rivalling foes and going through worlds untold,

Never did we miss company for sure,

In the midst of the darkness, rain and sun,

Our journey out of childhood had just begun.

The off beaten track always did seem exciting,

The rebel, the scoundrel, the tribe’s bastard still biting

What are these lingering waves of ups and downs?

Are they to be fulfilled beneath a female’s gowns?

Perhaps, “an ideal way to drown”,

Said so, the angel, the devil and the clown.

Chanting laughter heard in between my ears

Animalistically, born again without a fear

Alas, the satisfaction became the past,

The enjambment of lust and love did not last,

Alone and aloof, was a soul’s journey down

Oh, where art thou..Clown?

“None the place to be seen”, said the Angel,

“It might be stupidly wise to consult the Devil,

or vehemently humorous to awaken the Scoundrel,

Dare i say…perhaps release the Rebel?”

Breath long gone, the innocence of a childhood ranger,

Instead, a carnival-esque manifestation of these uninvited strangers

A celebration of choices, lost voices, lost choices, and voices

Seemingly searching for churches of questions and answers…

-Sherman Rajeshwaren

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Mental Modern Mental Hood

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