evening walk

i had a weird idea to write a poem while walking down the Aundh Road
this road is quite quiet and calm.never believe
it somewhere connects the city. i walked towards Parihar Chowk in search of some
evening snacks, after a while, i walked the reverse direction but by that time my evening snacks turned already into a poetry.

they scrap me on my ass and face
they have a different tongue and face
they said i'm like a garden
rose up from a stinking garbage
i really dont understand the language
was it a sarcasm like those school boys
in this globalised globe on my table.
i was scratching my head just for money
scratching my balls like a monkey
where should i go or listen the bastards?
oh! i dont wanna leave this city
but what this city has given me is shitty
mama's girl with the doll singing lullaby
for the beggars from the long big red car
the passers gaze up wondering why
i dont know why too they look up like
a frog waiting for heaven's urine
i saw lovers
they die for each other
they smile when they die
they never say bye when they leave
as the lady from south inform me
when i was young and poetic
and bit wild and alcoholic

the flying crane's leg hanging
like a bamboo
across the lake with the green hyacinth
the chickens reciting charles dicken's poems
the mother feeding the husband
the armies commiting suicide
the youngsters feeling high
in their faded jeans and jockey shorts
the city lies inside my keyboard
isn't it funny
whatever i see and feel was fake
whatever i wrote is not mine
I steal, rob and snatch from you
dont tell me back what you are
my lovers i love you like my poems
my friend i can sing you hundred songs
i can play and blow thousand tunes
dont tell me I'm garden or garbage
i know it's hard to be what we are.

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