Hi, my name could be Zed, Vignette or perhaps Rosette
I am no blonde nor dark haired but rather brunette.
And this is my story;

I write to you beneath my shed on my bed
To spread some words
That comes out of my head via red thread
That only can be misled, and you even might be discontented.
I was dreaming about a dream
That I was Hakeem or could be Kareem
Screaming for my team with low self-esteem
Due to meme’s that been streamed via a light beam
Tarim, Ibrahim, Joaqium, Seraphim no one heard me
But Rahim.
My voice was loud and extreme or so it seemed
Until I woke up

I drank out of my coffee cup
Felt sweaty and mistaught
I thought it was a thought from the heart
But it was nothing but a lost cause.
I was at default, that’s my fault.

This is a different story in my inventory
that brought me no nothing, not even glory
As I was walking on the Fleet Street discreet-ly
With top of me, my white sheet
Carrying in my back the sweets
That tasted like concrete to eat
Needed to sell it to the elite – along with the weed
To feed my cat; Wheat, who only had the thing for beet.
To not repeat the defeat I had to keep my replete to feel obsolete.
Wheat preferred his salt on his beet
While I sought for the salt,
My eyes couldn’t but caught the assault got his suit of aeronaut
For a moment I mistook him for an astronaut.
I apologize sincerely

Whilst I was ill and fragile and weary
I felt dizzy due to lack of energy
No sun no merry
I forced to drink Tea with honey
To feed my tummy I had to call my mummy
To make me, a stew of bunny who just happened to be named Scully or Sonny?
But… my God... he tasted yummy.




Poem by Ahmed Alabed 2022-01-02 14:05 in a gloomy weather