Some People

Some people are lucky

To have sweated it all out

And find success.

Some people are lucky

To have kept the faith

And be enlightened.

Some people are lucky

To have found love

                And embrace it.

Some people are lucky

To have cracked the code

And find genius.

Some people are lucky

To have survived a storm

And live to celebrate.

Some people are lucky

To have born with a tune

And sing their heart’s melody.

Some people are lucky

To have adorned the palette

And express themselves.

Maybe I too am lucky

To have found a pen

And a paper to write with.

In A Dream

In a dream I see us looking fine

Holding hands, flying above the sea

A surprise we finally cross the line

In a dream it’s just you and me.

Dancing among the clouds

With your long lost guitar at hand,

You sing to me the sweetest round

Of tunes in soft little love strands.

Happy thoughts brace my heart a shine

To your tune all my worries flee,

And where your sunshine meets mine

Is where our heaven shall be.

The Plight of a Prostitute

A thousand heartfelt laughs,

Eating to your souls fill,

Evening draws near,

You slide into your best wear,

Kneeling to the pleasures of the world,

You knock your wings off your back.

Bouncing to the beat of the groove

You fill your heart with the best

And it’s never enough to keep

Eyeing for flesh to fill your thirst.

For trading flesh earns you reward

Of wealth and of worldly pleasures

A taste of a rich man’s luxury

Of splendid rushes down your spines

All at once beneath your rusted halo

Surfaced the hidden crave of lust,

And so you sell your soul among the feeds

As if tomorrow is a forbidden destiny.

Deadly Sins fly about

Watching you sin even more,

Until your soul could contain

No more and you Collapse.

One such a thousand hurtful nights

She sleeps away her weariness,

While the rest of the world complains

Cursing the flashing red light

As a major defect among the good,

The best and the perfect.

She couldn’t care less of what people say

For life is one way for people who swing

Between life and survival,

Lest what they want is death.

Nobody cares to ponder her stake,

Nobody cares to offer her a choice,

Nobody cares to admire the art

Of this humble damsel yet so noble

To have accepted her profession a gift

That put food on one’s humble keep,

That earns her simple pleasures

The best way she knows how to.

And if society should judge

How she keeps her humble life alive,

Should we not judge how society judge her

With a thousand mocking laughs?