THE OOZING BOOZER

                                     THE OOZING BOOZER

What's there the most holy hymn??
Is the babbling of a drunkard brim.
                              

                               Far far away from the land of sobriety
                               where somberness shines and silence speaks,
                               look there comes a suave in inebriety
                               ruling the world when he creeps.

The pilgrimage starts with one holy viol,
then follows the nosh in small crumb.
The moment passes all the fraternity trial,
making ashamed the peacemongers dumb.
                              

                               Not a censerstick not a flower,
                               contorted tongues yet gabbling the prayer.
                               Some recounts foes, some recalls lover
                               and counting one's follies is also not rare.

Here comes the second viol
with no worries and crying high.
Blushing was now not on the dial,
yet concocting like the Elizabeth's sigh.
                               

                                When it comes the number third,
                                 the sense is lost but the thoughts inspired.
                                 Topples, toddles still no pain heard
                                  with nerves unperturbed for being fired.

 Come O preachers, teachers and mentors
feel dwarf before this philosopher's stone,
bow your heads to the boozer
when this oozes with slight moan.

                                                                                             By- Rohit Raj