The Periphery - Mini G

Within us were spirits soaring high and pumped up adrenaline,
And bearing the torch was Crazy Ol' Man with wisdom pristine.
Headed towards places seldom heard before- Satara & Baramati,
Clean toilets were what I prayed dearly to the Great Almighty!

We hired a couple of comfortable buses for the next six days:
Both unique in their own differing ways.
One with an undeterred musical soul,
The other saw some zestful tongues roll!

The proximal divide of the sexes is what Baramati saw,
Let's admit, it wasn't enough to dampen spirits raw.
There was a line of commonness between the separate wings,
In providing business to the brewery, we rose as Queens & Kings!

The guys witnessed their tottooed bassist go outrageous- the outcome,
They felt like commiting blasphemy in the sanctum sanctorum.
The gals touched the greatest heights of both sanity and insanity,
Bodies devoid of brains, haywire they danced and spoke with honesty.

With the industrial visit, a lucky threesome had their b'days overlapped,
The Craziest of Ol' Men with his benign gestures left us all direly zapped.
Gave us the pleasure of fighting over the final morsel of a sumptuous cake;
That moment, I am sure, for him, all willed to put their lives at stake.

Satara erased the line of divide between THE BOY and THE GIRL:
It surely killed the setting in of the primitive lull.
The berserk tractor ride gave the majority the feel of an amusement park,
While the fewer rest battled it out courageously in the dark.

The best of Uncle Fulghum's session awaited till the last morn,
Warm fuzzies, people let their backs adorn.
Of course the warmest of all are reserved for the Crazy Ol' Man,
Who lights the lives of our Whacky Young Clan!