My rat feasted dreams are rotten
I’m not a perfectionist, I say
I experienced the down trodden roads
The dark alley never blinded me
So, the down pour on my roof
Pitter patter may amuse you
As I shelter from the leakage
With buckets over flowing
Into the inundated lanes
The stale odor of bread
That comes from my four walls
Leave a blemish on my ancestors’ will
The decayed stairs I mount on
Project escalating aspirations
I smirk at the nest
Of different creatures
Those take cover at my slum home
Should I count the stray dogs
On my growth matrix
As my pecuniary sense
Sneers at me.
*
My wishful desires
Are as if horses have wings
(If I am hopeful)
The divine love…
Befriends me.
*
A patch of dry land
In an upscale market
Branded apparel and accessories
From the bazaars
I have done window shopping all my life
Insured are my house and cars
And dogs too
(They say everything is possible
With wand of wealth)
Long dead relations come haunting
Relatives who adjoin as glamour
Reputation once buried
Unearthed with fame, power and money
I rise as a star at my domain
Savings hoarded in banks
Subsequently the share market
Adds more gimmick to my ambition
Am I running out of ideas?
My middle class originality
Shall come as a leftover salvage
Of my perpetual intrinsic wants.