By Binta
To roam to rome?
To rome to roam?
The mind to mind?
Y mind what doesn't,
My mind shouldn't.
Why bind wat shouldn't?
In a bind? I wouldn't!
Poet, I be not, rhyme I think naught.
Of rhymes n lines I see bores and whines,
For wines and dime they do have my mind!
To rome, we roam,
Tis but thy home,
Fine italian women,
Togas n linen...
Whoops old days
Ceasers n old ways!!!
Its popes n bishops,
Bibles n bookshops!
In my mind now, let's roam
N oh its no rome!
There's demons in ditches, n boil filled witches!
Dark n deep, these dreadlocks do keep,
Unseen things n fiends,
Wriggling squirming, these vermin never sleep.
How do I begin, to tell
Of nightmares in hell?
To roam in rome,
Of smiles n sunny homes,
Alas, my tale has come to a halt,
For I cannot
Spare another thought,
For rome dear rome......
Is not my home...
Madness!! Pure!
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