on their sepulchral souls
death silently treads ..
he knows they might
wake up lifeless bodies
zombie heads ..
they who beg
drugged comatose
earn their bread
narrow alleys
of pain despair
main road ahead
beneath a lifeless
winding sheets
hands outstretched
feet eagle spread
you too can fuck them
says the board
bleeding read
Saturday, June 8, 2013
The Living Dead
When It Rains
sweet
childhood
memories
of bandra
back lanes
alistair
romping
in the waters
with his wild
great dane
gully cricket
uncle joes
broken weeping
window panes
holding hands
wendy and wayne
watching jealously
green with envy
unmarried spinster
elaine ..smoking
his cheroot
mr caine
a happy
bachelor
he has
remained
though his
best pal
martin
married
his girlfriend
mary jane
sweet wet
memories
that rise
from my
brain
poetic
pitter patter
scattered
rains
You Wont Find The Magic Of India In A Travel Book
You Wont Find The Magic Of India In A Travel Book, a photo by firoze shakir photographerno1 on Flickr.
it has to
enter
your soul
your cosmic
consciousness
by hook or crook
india is a dream
you need to feel
before you look
india is not
a wall on
facebook
india is
a journey
that gets
you hooked
before you
take a flight
or seats
are booked
india is not
just bollywood
katrina salman
ranbir or sharukh
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