Tam Brahm Blues
Here is a verse I wrote some years ago - in what I call an expression of globalised parochialism
The Tam Brahm is an antique creature
Pompous thinking his fancy feature
Thinks too long, thinks too wide
Not more than curd-rice on his side
Likes to soar, over the worlds
Has a weakness to hear his own words
Frets on the future, of humanity
Has property rights on sanity!
Seeks power in ideals, ideals in wealth
Adores simplicity, loves some stealth
Three thousand years, upon his genes
Amuses oldies, annoys the teens
He still might change the new millennium
With the excess packed, in his cranium!