The gods of poems 

have descended upon me

And my stomach cannot take it any longer

The strength it possesses

over me is over weighting me

And the headache is beyond measure

The heavens of poem is pregnant 

And was in serious pain of labour

Where is the delivery going to be

Without any sequitur

The gods of poem are ruminating 

Restless is their soul

For their sacrifice are yet to be completed

The inspiration of poem is reducing

The people are not giving

what it takes to illuminate on it

Learn wide to conceive a greater knowledge

What you eat is what you ruminate on

And also what you digest

©ONEIRIC