Poetry

Drum-beats were coming 
nearer. The lineage is being questioned. 
Archaeopteryx is being kicked. 
upward. It was too slow; 
was not able to fly. 
 
Things are not moving, as you 
want them, in romantic 
relationship with the road. 
 
A madness permeates. The 
acolytes were busy in playing 
the act, that all wars 
will never come to end. 
 
Anointing the salt smell as 
savior, after the shadow-boxing. 
The sparring must continue― 
to find out the catwalk. 
 
The ramp was going upward.