Saturday, July 31, 2010

I am a Defunct Poet Of Mumbai

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born each morning
on the internet
at the stroke
of midnight
i die
the defunct poet
of mumbai
cobbled up
words
stitched
repaired
boot polished
i wont deny
the cobbler
poet of mumbai
the same words
over and over again
in the same oil
i fry
a cooked up poem
a burnt out passion
to the masses
i supply
i am a caterer
poet of mumbai
the same thread
of words
the same weft
warp of a fabric
as a poem
i restitch
repair
color and dye
i am a tailor
made poet
of mumbai

whether
posterity
will read me
ignore me
its their prerogative
their choice
but in the tear
of a beggar
through 'a picture
i carried
their voice
i gave dignity
to the hijra
from bad to verse
i had
no choice
through a picture
of their angst
i showed
you the world
of the lady boys
poetic pathos
agony anguish
hobsons choice

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