We are the progenies of Prufrock
Living and partly living
Pursuing our dreams
And like a dreamer dying on the streets
Hungry and diseased.
But even when we shun those very visions
We lived for
We are starved
Of happiness, creativity and freedom,
Of being our very own
Whether you bang on the doors of your
Fractured intellect,
Or hunt for money,
You are still one among the many,
Hungry for more
Evermore
We would walk the parties
On a cocktail night
This time talking of
Oracles and miracles
Of the niche we call
Society.
In fashion, what is in
What is out,
Never mind
What you think,
And who cares
What’s it all about…
You just talk
And let them know
You are kin
To some Di Caprio!
Back home you surf the net
Find out who was it
You talked to
And who was it you met!
We still are patients,
And patiently we walk the
Mundane way,
From the Blue Mondays
To the welcome Fridays,
Swaying to the jazz
Of nothingness
Critiquing
Criticizing
But participating,
Nonetheless.
We are foolproof,
Or so we think,
We are fools
And there is proof
And that is true.
This way my friends,
That’s the gate of my house,
But I’m still looking for a home
To live.
I don’t like the nasty looks,
So it’s okay that I have spent,
A bit too much on the rent…
Good night then,
Meet you again,
On my way
To discuss life,
And share our views
Talk of this and talk of that
Who is thin and who is fat
What is good and what is bad
And I agree it is fun
So that’s it then.
Done.
