Murmur Of A Vagabond

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I will be back on blogtv tonight for a brief show. I am not fully fit to do any show. My left chin still hurts. And I haven’t shaven for nearly two weeks. Still I will be there.

   The week is almost over. I really wished for a week like this, so, no complaints. Catch you all later.


Enjoy the poem.

Murmur Of A Vagabond.

The crowd every moment fattened,

But none known to each other at each other they looked,

Strangers in a closely knit world filled,

By the pathetic portion of materialism,

That runs through the veins of screaming losers,

None hear them but their spiritual ghosts,

Oh’ the reality of those ghosts murdered,

By passionless lovers and their admirers.


More and more people to the middle of the town poured,

Even couples who left home as couples became strangers,

And through them all step by step he walked,

Many smiling strangers his eyes don’t see,

None of the mocking giggles his ears don’t hear,

Those arrogant ones who bumped on him he felt not.

The world as is from his mind left,

Life from his veins drained,

Oh’ the poison of the witchcraft of love too left,

As every loving feeling from his mind he erased.


The fast moving crowd, many without direction wandered,

Artificial lights in many colors glittered,

Oh’ their minds he could hear,

And only for one face all around him he looked,

Then the wisdom from the past through his mind breezed,

And to himself he murmured,

“Oh’ how much I loved you dear,

And how much I love you dear,

Why through the wilderness of this world you danced?

Why only scream of your long lost ghost I hear?

Why to the love of mine you never looked,

Through the spiritual side than the material mockery of the world?”


In his mind or any of his wisdom in his mind he knew,

Gave any answers to those questions murmured,

Rain poured and the crowd lost their grip,

As he walked on and on knowing where he will reach,

Not knowing how his mind will gain a bit of peace at that moment.


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3 Replies to “Murmur Of A Vagabond”

  1. I really liked this.

    In this day and age, I would relate it to a homeless man on the street.

    But parts of it feel old soul-like. It feels as if it were a Native American tribesman speaking of a wanderer of the land, one that may not particularly liked.

    I saw visions when I read this. This is a beautiful piece of work.


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