Re: Disowned by despondency.

Lonely, Disowned,
My cultural cloak burns under the Anglican fire,

Hope a 'whore ' I left seasick on my foray into self dissarray,

My sentiments feel so passe, Asian yet not entirely avant-garde, Cinnamon skinned and scarred with destiny I play cards,

Be wary of the sharks in these choppy waters, Deep blue like the vision of an imperialist,

I stay bludgeoned, To the bloody realisation, Deafened by the perverse percussion of cultural Marxist presumption,

An eastern blend of cannabis of colonialism, A bastardised  brit with Borrowed wisdom,

I crave for love hungrily and insatiable,
My lover fictional and fable ridden, I'm smitten,  I stay insipid in this trite existence,

Vanity temporarily uplifted by the falsehoods of a wise man,

Sick of sweet sentiment,
Devoid of lustful resonance,

A mere peddler of hope,

Self pity 'my pornography' as it tears my taboo, like cheap linen, I feel like a prized  prick when the sun glistens, But can't dance to the Carcadian rhythm,

Nothing more than an urban dweller,
Searching for a symphony which coos me capriciously away from this sobering reality .