We see it on the hoardings and sidewalks,
we hear it everyday as people talk,
voices and words,meaning profound,
we ignore as they implore...
Nice ladies with henna hair,
walking by,filthy hands outstretched,
buying blessings in return for alms,
a new way to please Him,by greasing their palms...
Nice ladies that never bother,
to turn,when hoodlums hoot and holler,
at home push their husbands to be rogue,
hidden crimes of the white collar...
Men with heavy hands,Rolex adding weight,
maintain the virtues of gallant life,
maintain a porcelain,mantelpiece wife,
buy shiny new dresses,
for their office mistresses...
Men who walked the moonlit aisle,
sheepishly,besides the yellow brick road,
curse the seat of power every hour,
in their armchairs,part of the pillaging horde...
Youth,in search of truth,lending night to a needle,
aim their sights,on the big city lights,
rummage through the human stench,
extracting pieces of future which
will please their new age wench.
At night we all gather,
with a million keys in hand,
trying every door to leave
for we cannot withstand…
If one key should fit!!
There is a rush for that door,
…now on the other side…
…alas! Cursed be random choices…
…a million shoulders against a closed door…
…seeking to return,a multitude of screaming voices…
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