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All English Sonnets


“ Concept of work as a way of life”
They disrupt because they are not coping.
This stuff does not mean a thing out there
This stuff are counts to nothing friend out there,

Nowhere to go and no way to get there,
Contemplating the ugliest night more,
Of grudges and anonymities Hamstring hopes and mediocrities
Ensconced in debilitating anonymities

Quiescent thorns of wishes impish grope
Disrupt with slapsticks answers just to cope
But cope they not and merely cul de sac
Personified has now become their lack

Of toe holds on the awnings of this life
Don’t blame me, blame my father and the street.

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