The jam of its fruit

The whimsicality of those
As it is today with just a
few of hobbits hidden in
the burrows
against the Egobloated world
of demise and of
goodbye to the dignity
of off

The stream of frisky life
As it was yesterday with
just a few of books left
in the den
The oasis bookeeper
who always kept losing
his keys
Got the mastery of finding
it
but for what's its worth
came in an unobtrusive
manner
only to find that there's no
need to open the library
as nobody comes to listen
To the animals of prey
the long forgotten
aim
now restatued
now regained
seems reclusive and unnecessary
whim
of stupidity and burden

A partisan on nobody's war
I'm changing the topics
the subjects of my query
A hanged man's asylum
which is a temporary zone
of sweet intimate rituals
and where's a portable
bookeeping device
producing orange jam
and orange squash
out of the people's
hastility and anger
Materia prima
Materia obscura
in hermetically packed
jar