We found a new God
Who runs in another blood
Clear as dark in his veins
And limps as planes
In his wandering flight
Without stars for sight.
In his morning
He rises from the eye of the sun,
And hardly births fun
From the wave of his evening
Through the cold night
That claws his flight.
A new God:
Some say,in their odd,
That he lives in the west
A sanctuary of spirits in the forest
Far off the east
Where humans would never go for a feast.
Is Pythagoras, the God?
In motion of his back and forward
Fetching laws to his favour
And smells anus ,the odour
Conspired of air and water for earth
Thus strangling humans,their breath.
He dehydrated our cry like rain
And felt the new world in pain,
By setting his mat across the sea
In his sleeps for the kingdom’s key
Yet died with Abraham’s greatness
Without Lazarus and his wellness.
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.