Brother George

ever since brother george came on the scene, i have felt something sinister in his physiognomy; that crushed onion nose that seems to have been placed in the wrong place; that ugly mount that forbodes uneasy, uncanny things to come, the superstitious streak in me always urging me to to call him to have a nose job done. i blamed myself for not until the plane came crushing down, the towers tumbling down, the innocent peaceful old giant buddha dinsintegrating, the cyclone tearing at heavenly homes, afghanistan and iraq falling like giants with carpet pulled from their feet and the united nations paralysed like eunuchs. those mighty monuments all have fallen into a heap and assumed that similar contour of that flat ugly uneven nose that seemed to have gone to the wrong place. i have already thrown brother george's picture away lest the bad omens rubbed onto me. that physiognomy that keeps telling me that the owner brings trouble and miseries. that physiognomy that has been hitting on a side of me that never fails to say the right thing a tsunami of troubles forboding