I Thrust The Soil And Fell With A Pleased Ache.
My machete split the vein 'n' blades of grasses;
As I fought the fallow farm land feebly,
My bones; tired like the rays of trashes,
As I trash the blades with feeble vigour.
I stood aloft and saw hecks of grasses-
Standing and flutt'ring right left to the winds,
I held my waist that became a huge rock;
So tired in strength and strong like a rock.
I kept my machete grazing the grasses,
I saw a heap of shit and spit a well;
The smelly scent of shit on grasses dwell-
I kept my machete grazing the grasses.
I then feel the blazing eye of the sun,
Burning the world in my hair; heat wore me,
Warm was my flesh as the grass's wave at me,
I thrust the soil and fell with a pleased ache.
"words from the innocent mind"