At the cold hours of the apes,
Some bars and hotels available
were opened to the Tellerman.
Tellerman, sometimes scream so tall,
swearing heavens on earth,
tearing tears till tattered,
humming like 1845 Volkswagen beetle, oh Tellerman…! the sexist.

Another eve came,
Tellerman appeared to jolly.
Mr Tellerman, where’s your dignity?
Words were warning Mr Tellerman…
Tellerman began to boil,
in his heart,
He mumbled words unheard,
He chested rocks and stones,
His anger became merely
fearsome and folly.
Some minutes at hand,
Tellerman was found castrated by the committee of slay queens.

Mr Tellerman, the innocent-stain,
the skirt reaper, the voice ignitor,
the ladies man, the slay queens messenger, the cheat expertise,
the foetus Jack-lifter.
Mr Tellerman, leave ladies…
“oh man, tell me not those trash, for I know the safety routes”.
Now, Tellerman… have you known
nothing last forever?
Lo, have you heard your neighbors
shouting and calling your name…
Oh, Tellerman, the slay queens are knocking at your door.
But there’s a body lying half life
in the hospital…
So mute, downcasted, isolated,
cursed at large, breathing from mouth,
mouthing his ancestors, bedwetting overly, decaying quietly,
So sour at sight…
That’s the Tellerman.

YOU MISSED THIS?  POEM: Woe to the apathy 

Author Kelly Juuz is a writer at The Pace News 

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