Monday, November 16, 2009

Scoring. (it doesn't seem right, no wonder it doesn't rhyme)

Feigning an innocence
i walk out of the slum
creases on forehead
give me away.
I try
to justify
the cynic, the observer
my life is shit too
i remember her.

Turn. Walk back.
i can, i won't.
the kid, needs help, needs a lot
more than i do
this dirty brown bag of pot.
does he cry out
for company, for love?
glad, I'll never know.
sad, I'll never ask.

Mirrors are more fun
than Television.
Broken Frames, mine.
Shattered dreams, his.
these green glares i seek
they masquerade my guilt.
I'll do what i can.
I'll provide
by dropping in.
Buy some, and more later.
Irani, Pahaari, or
maybe Malana cream.
And find my way
to him
Gladly, Sadly, Madly
like a salmon swimming upstream.

7 comments:

still thinking !!! said...

''mirrors are more fun then television''.brilliant. .All the Images and connections.poverty of love,life and existance,well defined

Green Peace said...

heh heh...thanks.

you comment in poetry too?...nice.

Spin said...

Ooh, the junkie's existentialist crisis.

Green Peace said...

aami jaaanki...aami scaaam...aami bhendelism kore debo!!!!

Spin said...

In truth, tumi depraess. Tumi ghore boshe kaalo rong diye dewale makorsha aanko, jiboner gobhirota niye kobita lekho, lukiye lukiye kaando, ar majhe majhe compass diye hate puraton premikader naam lekho. Ei jonno tumi draags nao, ami jani.

Green Peace said...

...TOR BABA!!

still thinking !!! said...

I try too..cant help