Whatever happened to Arun?

Arun, he knew, means the sun.

So Arun decided to be a poet.
And then on he spoke, only to conceal,
Like today’s crossword
With yesterday’s clues.

Arun, he said, means the bright.

So Arun decided to grow his beard,
Like bronze clouds with dark wisps.
He started to smoke and read
Fat books, cover to cover!

Arun, he thought, means nothing.

So Arun, the Sun, glows bright
Between the shifts of a call-center
Eagerly licks veiled cunts
Of earthen beauties, dimly lit.

Advertisements

Your Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s