ON MY BIRTHDAY

Carve for me an Alexandrine It may be needless Make me happier than Magdalene It may be meaningless Prepare my plantain with margarine That may be tasteless Feed my soul with sweetest hymn Ye,I'm still eaten up by the paradigms of: aging and its discontinuity "live -and- stop living" well-spent days and the desired joy lengthy years and the very near end "here I come" and "goodbye ,world" caring and being cared for living,but a fulfilled life All shall lurk in me and and colour my mood As if the: Count should start again the flowers should flourish beyond their worn-out looks I should be sired again by a conqueror the path should be smoothly substituted a ban be put on the compulsory exit the departed skirts be replaced with wrappers. Nay,all are absolutely impossible They all flee with time They spell "impossible" Of what use is the erring declaration: Presence of joy,invites to death Celebration of wealth and loss of breathe caring for lies and neglect for bitter truth incorrigible dirt and easy cleansing. God,do.me a rare favour: Show me my dirty bin and my holy deed I'd weigh them and judge myself Before thy Paternal ban on correction Show me my abode when I depart A rest place or where thirst sta