Thursday, September 04, 2014


Kay Hassan
 When,  a  philosopher ran out of all  motives,
Lonely,  wandered off to  the city  ,
And  wept  for the death of his  day,
Spewing out  streams of  holy-gibberish,
 And kept  roaming down towns and  streets,
Until awkwardly stole a glimpse of   his  glorious wife ;
Fluently, selling all kinds of  precious stones .
Quite in accord with  Harvard Business Review ,
He, the poor Philosopher  screamed:
‘Woe  is   me,   Aristotle!    (‘For Aristotle‘s dental logic.)
We are impractical phoenixes,’ said he,
And ran to the river’s estuary,
Ardent to fetch  the finest  river -stone.
Where  he was  shredded, over  a thousand  of them,
 until screamed in the light of his moon
‘Here are my  mentors' stone . ’
And took a hold of the  most unkind  one ,
To set it, in the morning,   on the  class'  display - board
Where he looked   taller against his disciples' word
Until a  sharp  growl escaped his mouth- trumpet:
‘See how  this magical alchemy ,
 liberate  the Cosmos from the Existence atrophy.'
And  bashfully,  the dodger left  the scene .
And farewell-ed his disciples and   triviality.


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