A spiked Karaoke

Who wears the countenance of a novice,
   Walks with the grace of a monk,
Fiddles the violin sparingly slow
   One, petting a small fluffy poodle
Thinks quick like an archer but
   Has a heart of an assassin.

The five adjusting their brimmed brown hats
   Dark shades, golden necklaces
Crossed the road
   Glistening diamond wrist watches
Briskly past the bouncers  
   Tight jean trousers for their sausage-thighs
At Club Lappex
   Bulky, leather slide-in boots

From our  balcony corner
   Tipping, tapping, tripping at the table
Sipping our cock-tail

   Sliding a crisp currency note for the call girl
We saw them toast, scan, spiked
   For the whiskey glasses, in whispers
Often caressing the guns tucked
   Slouching on the white resin club coaches
In their belts, under well-polished
   Leather jackets, amplified
Singing a karaoke three octaves deeper.
Racing hearts, we felt dispossessed...
   Had veiled their smile in the 
Our venture nearly robbed
   Our dollars nearly carted away
By a rascal team
  Scheming over stuffy shisha steam. 
Got cold now
Cowed the tacky trio
In ill-fitting tweed suits.

Fish,
We put them in the fridge
   They perish quickly under the tropical Sun 
It was dark though, no sun, no warmth
   Just curious looks in the luminescence glamor
Of club lights, head dots and silhouettes.
   And we puffed and puffed hard our cigar rolls
Sending thick billows of smoke to the charred sky
   Partly hidden, sooty, veiled
With the shadows of our fear
   The mercenaries could not see us
We lived to tell the tale.

Comments

  1. Unknown30 September 2014 at 17:09

    hey u, i just nominated u for the liebster award, check out my blog

    ReplyDelete

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