>≫Beckon

You know you carry A bag which belongs to seventeenth century Yet you pressurised people To recognise you As a poet As a thinker A pioneer of the post- modernism That odd pill I swallowed once And agreed with you all As I wanted to make me sociable But now I feel the adverse reaction Of that expired medicine Awkwardly Inside it creates An aversion and nausea So I recently vomit in disgust People disagree and start to cry foul I can not help but look at How they are doings all the sins Fit for going to hell I can not agree with you any more You reverse the wheel And I can not walk along with the obsolete As excellence beckons me.