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    Reaper 129 and France 0

    Apostles of Belenus signatured tall,
    Eye-filling on European green lands;
    Lamenting today,
    Hunched back;
    Yet again on another doomed foreplay.

    This end-game whistled friendlier this time,
    As life dribbled few Zinedines’ skills;
    Near Stade De’ France,
    Dodged by vested Tarantulas;
    Herein a cannibalistic love affair.

    Tolls further the Reaper,
    Flying bullets this time;
    Triggering fingers fire fries,
    Nailed coffins;
    In pastas and wine,
    Whilst poor eaglets chewed metal;
    Therein a Californian Hotel divine.

    Lost 129 and,
    Beyond the line;
    Still the game is on,
    Beware, it restarts anywhere; anytime.

    And blackish Sheep sublimes,
    Unrolling tear ups worldwide;
    Lip-locking moist hearts,
    To kiss French,
    Wish inked a lie; Goddamn!

    satchboogie1984@gmail.com'
    A(a)kashhttp://infornicle.com/
    A(a)kash has been a part of few anthologies and Poetry Festivals namely Efflorescence by Chennai Poetry Circle, Glomag by Glory Sasikala, The Virtual Reality (Sparrow Publishers), Guntur Int Poetry Fest and many more. He is also a proud member of Soul Scriber’s Society, Salem that curates Yercaud Poetry Festival every year.

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