I wanted to connect a modern story with a myth that I had read.
quote by Wally Lamb
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Modern Dancing
Modern, modern, modern, modern dancing
Modern dancing, modern dancing
Modern dancing, modern
I see you acting modernly with the boys and girls
Exposure breeds discovery in the modern world
The 60's hairdos 90's eyes are just flashing lights
A touch of neon hinting class for the modern night
Modern dancing, modern dancing
Modern dancing, modern dancing
Dancing
Modern dancing, modern dancing
Modern dancing, modern
Mono vision tv face and determined eyes
The clothes are perfect the rips in place just the perfect size
Familiarity breeds contempt but it doesn't show
We've heard the music times before but it still makes you go
Modern dancing, modern dancing
Modern dancing, modern dancing
Modern dancing, dancing
....variations to fade....
song performed by Men Without Hats
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His Story
Yo, this is a story of a male female threat to society
You know being misjudged and not respected for what we are
But I want to send this special shout out to my girl tawana brawley
Cause no matter what we say or what we do
Theyll always believe his story (ow)
Chorus:
His story (yeahee, yeahee, yeahee)
Hist story (ow)
Theyre gonna believe
His story
His story
Why does it have to be that we get labeled for what we do
Its hard enough for us to be ourselves without being used
Girls have an image too
But when they get mad at you
There is no telling what theyll say to hurt you
This is a story of a male female threat to society
Why you wanna go and tell a lie on me? (yeahee, yeah, oooh)
His story over mine his story will be his story
And my story is a waste of time (aaaah-aah-aah)
Theyre gonna believe
Chorus
Sometimes I feel like there is no reason for me to explain
No matter how much we complain
You know it all stays the same
They try to call us freaks
Why does it have to be
We cant get justified until we speak up (oooh)
This is a story of a male female threat to society
Why you wanna go and tell a lie on me? (yeahee, yeah, oooh)
His story over mine his story will be his story
And my story is a waste of time (aaaah-aah-aah)
(you know its just a waste of my time)
Theyre gonna believe
His story over mine
So what you gonna do
Dont let it take over you (hey)
My story is a waste of time
Its hard enough to be ourselves without being used
So yo take it from me
Dont be a victim of society
You cant put yourself in a position to be neglected
And disrespected
You have to do whats not expected
Alright
Or all be his story
His story over mine
His story will be his story
(this is a story of) how could you do this to us
Theyre gonna believe
[...] Read more
song performed by TLC
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It's Mine to Own
Just give me my prize!
For a life lived...
Both bold and wise.
Just give me my prize!
Un-itemized it.
It's mine to own.
Just give me my prize.
I accept it.
Now I can connect.
Inside...
I connect it.
Now I can accept.
Those feelings I cried...
With heartache.
Deep in my chest!
I accept it.
Now I can connect.
I accept it.
Now I can connect.
Just give me my prize!
I accept it.
Now I can connect.
Inside...
I accept it.
Now I can connect.
Those feelings I cried...
With heartache.
Deep in my chest!
I accept it.
Now I can connect.
Just give me my prize!
Un-itemized it.
It's mine to own.
I accept it.
Now I can connect.
It's mine to own.
I accept it.
Now I can connect.
It's mine to own.
Just,
Give me my prize I accept it.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Blind Faith
[ alternative version of planned obsolescence ]
Love, breaks apart is a myth of human kindness
Love, breaks apart is amyth of human kindness
Love, breaks apart is a myth of human kindness
Panic in the worried night with the tempting, rises
Panic in the worried night with the tempting, rises
Panic in the worried night the tempting rises
No doubt that shed desire blind faith in all surmises
No doubt that shed desire blind faith in all surmises
No doubt that shed deny blind faith in half-surmises
Because
Any modern man can see that
Any modern man can see that
Piety obsolete
Faith obsolete
Mysticism obsolete
Prophetic vision obsolete
Any modern man can see that
Any modern mad can see that
Love, breaks apart is a myth of human kindness
Love, breaks apart is a myth of human kindness
Love, breaks apart is a myth of human kindness
Panic in the worried night with the tempting, rises
Panic in the worried night with the tempting, rises
Panic in the worried night the tempting rises
No doubt that shed desire blind faith in all surmises
No doubt that shed desire blind faith in all surmises
No doubt that shed deny blind faith in half-surmises
Because
Any modern man can see that
Any modern man can see that
Piety obsolete
Faith obsolete
Mysticism obsolete
Prophetic vision obsolete
Any modern man can see that
Any modern mad can see that
song performed by 10000 Maniacs
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Modern Dance
Maybe I should go and live in amsterdam
In a side street near a big canal
Spend my evenings in the van gogh museum
What a dream, van gogh museum
Maybe its time to see tangiers
A different life-style, some different fears
And maybe I should be in edinburgh
In a kilt in edinburgh
Doin a modern dance
Doin a modern dance
Or maybe I should get a farm in southern france
Where the winds are wispy and the villagers dance
And you and I wed sleep beneath a moon
Moon in june and sleep till noon
And maybe you and I could fall in love
Regain the spirit that we once had
Youd let me hold you and touch the night
That shines so bright, so bright with fright
Doin a modern dance
Doin a modern dance
Shit, maybe I could go to yucatan
Where women are women, a mans a man
Ah, no one confused, ever loses place
With their place in the human race
Maybe Im not cut out for city life
The smell of exhaust, the smell of strife
And maybe you dont wanna be a wife
Its not a life being a wife
Doin a modern dance
Doin a modern dance
So maybe I should go to tanganyika
Where the rivers run, down mountains tall and steep
Or go to india to study chants
And lose romance to a mantras dance
I need a guru, I need some law
Explain to me the things we saw
Why it always comes to this
Its all downhill after the first kiss
Maybe I should move to rotterdam
Maybe move to amsterdam
I should move to ireland, italy, spain
Afghanistan where there is no rain
Or maybe I should just learn a modern dance
Where roles are shifting the modern dance
You never touch you dont know who youre with
This week, this month, this time of year
This week, this month, this time of year
Doin a modern dance
You dont know who youre with modern dance
I should move to pakistan, go to afghanistan
[...] Read more
song performed by Lou Reed
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi
Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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On The Verge Of
Though alchemists in every continent worked hard,
to change the cheap metals into the precious gold,
they had never succeeded as it was not the truth,
hidden in the electronic configuration and a myth,
myth of mummy's resurrection from the pyramids and a cave,
myth of witch's spell and poor women's haunted look,
myth of piped piper and the following of the rats loot,
myth of the split ocean that paved the way for the joy walk,
myth of human intelligence and its relation to the races,
myth of ether that found in the space,
myth of flat earth, myth of spirit,
all are not lies, but steps taken to find the truth,
truth hidden in nature, that has hundred more elements,
everything derived from these, even the love and lust,
even the diseases and wellness,
concept and convenience of communication,
We have found something to explore other things,
we cloned the new things to produce substitute organs,
We are one step backward to find that God,
Who controls us to be happy and sad,
Creation of life in a cell, then,
Man will be the creator, until then,
Would we be alive or would we be destroyed,
if Gods of religions like to keep the secret or,
the intelligence of human dig its own grave.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Modern Girl
Shes a modern girl
Out to rule the world
And nothing can stop her now
She knows what she wants
And shes out to get it
Shes a modern girl
Life is hard in a midlands town
For a girl with her head in the clouds
Everybody puts her down
Shes just one of the crowd
She finds it aint easy
To stand on her own two feet
It aint easy
She knows this time she wont be beat
Shes a modern girl
Out to rule the world
And nothing can stop her now
She knows what she wants
And shes out to get it
Shes a modern girl
Now its time for her to find
The way its always been
Love is just a word to her
Another broken dream
She finds it aint easy
To stand on her own two feet
It aint easy
She knows this time she wont be beat
Shes a modern girl
Out to rule the world
And nothing can stop her now
She knows what she wants
And shes out to get it
Shes a modern girl
[instrumental]
She finds it aint easy
To stand on her own two feet
It aint easy
She knows this time she wont be beat
Shes a modern girl
Out to rule the world
And nothing can stop her now
She knows what she wants
And shes out to get it
Shes a modern girl
Shes a modern girl
Out to rule the world
And nothing can stop her now
She knows what she wants
And shes out to get it
[...] Read more
song performed by Rick Astley
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Tale XXI
The Learned Boy
An honest man was Farmer Jones, and true;
He did by all as all by him should do;
Grave, cautious, careful, fond of gain was he,
Yet famed for rustic hospitality:
Left with his children in a widow'd state,
The quiet man submitted to his fate;
Though prudent matrons waited for his call,
With cool forbearance he avoided all;
Though each profess'd a pure maternal joy,
By kind attention to his feeble boy;
And though a friendly Widow knew no rest,
Whilst neighbour Jones was lonely and distress'd;
Nay, though the maidens spoke in tender tone
Their hearts' concern to see him left alone,
Jones still persisted in that cheerless life,
As if 'twere sin to take a second wife.
Oh! 'tis a precious thing, when wives are dead,
To find such numbers who will serve instead;
And in whatever state a man be thrown,
'Tis that precisely they would wish their own;
Left the departed infants--then their joy
Is to sustain each lovely girl and boy:
Whatever calling his, whatever trade,
To that their chief attention has been paid;
His happy taste in all things they approve,
His friends they honour, and his food they love;
His wish for order, prudence in affairs,
An equal temper (thank their stars!), are theirs;
In fact, it seem'd to be a thing decreed,
And fix'd as fate, that marriage must succeed:
Yet some, like Jones, with stubborn hearts and
hard,
Can hear such claims and show them no regard.
Soon as our Farmer, like a general, found
By what strong foes he was encompass'd round,
Engage he dared not, and he could not fly,
But saw his hope in gentle parley lie;
With looks of kindness then, and trembling heart,
He met the foe, and art opposed to art.
Now spoke that foe insidious--gentle tones,
And gentle looks, assumed for Farmer Jones:
'Three girls,' the Widow cried, 'a lively three
To govern well--indeed it cannot be.'
'Yes,' he replied, 'it calls for pains and care:
But I must bear it.'--'Sir, you cannot bear;
Your son is weak, and asks a mother's eye:'
'That, my kind friend, a father's may supply.'
[...] Read more
poem by George Crabbe
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Canto the First
I
I want a hero: an uncommon want,
When every year and month sends forth a new one,
Till, after cloying the gazettes with cant,
The age discovers he is not the true one;
Of such as these I should not care to vaunt,
I'll therefore take our ancient friend Don Juan—
We all have seen him, in the pantomime,
Sent to the devil somewhat ere his time.
II
Vernon, the butcher Cumberland, Wolfe, Hawke,
Prince Ferdinand, Granby, Burgoyne, Keppel, Howe,
Evil and good, have had their tithe of talk,
And fill'd their sign posts then, like Wellesley now;
Each in their turn like Banquo's monarchs stalk,
Followers of fame, "nine farrow" of that sow:
France, too, had Buonaparté and Dumourier
Recorded in the Moniteur and Courier.
III
Barnave, Brissot, Condorcet, Mirabeau,
Petion, Clootz, Danton, Marat, La Fayette,
Were French, and famous people, as we know:
And there were others, scarce forgotten yet,
Joubert, Hoche, Marceau, Lannes, Desaix, Moreau,
With many of the military set,
Exceedingly remarkable at times,
But not at all adapted to my rhymes.
IV
Nelson was once Britannia's god of war,
And still should be so, but the tide is turn'd;
There's no more to be said of Trafalgar,
'T is with our hero quietly inurn'd;
Because the army's grown more popular,
At which the naval people are concern'd;
Besides, the prince is all for the land-service,
Forgetting Duncan, Nelson, Howe, and Jervis.
V
Brave men were living before Agamemnon
And since, exceeding valorous and sage,
A good deal like him too, though quite the same none;
But then they shone not on the poet's page,
And so have been forgotten:—I condemn none,
But can't find any in the present age
Fit for my poem (that is, for my new one);
So, as I said, I'll take my friend Don Juan.
[...] Read more
poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
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The Story Of Modern Verses
The story that had started in wonder
The story that had started in pain
The story that always remained untold
The story that could never unfold
The reality of complex human natures
The story that could only capture
The superficial aspects of humanity
That is the story of modern verses
That is the only story of our modern age.
There comes the hatred full of love
And love full of hatred
There stands the familiarity at a distance
And a distant association and nearness
More glorified than any day to day familiarity.
The story of modern verses always reminds us
About the shallowness of modernity
About the obscurity of the material world.
This story once told shall touch the base
And would make everybody else to lose the race
Because winning is no more the destiny,
The destiny is only love, faith and submission
The destiny is only achieved by losing
At all phases of life - as the winning game
Is full of distortions and unhappiness.
The story of modern verses clicks in the mind of society
To push it through the hollow modern age
And make it reach the destiny of truth and harmony.
poem by Somsubhro Ghosh
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Make This House A Home
Well theres something in us living
Theres something you should know
There was a time for us to fall
Now its time to grow
But you know its not the way
That I intended it to be
Crossing hearts and killing souls
And trying to get down to whats real
All I ever wanted was to make this house a home
I let go of sinking sand wont you help me find a stone
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
Was to make this house a home
All I needed was your hand to hold
I spent so much time alone
I needed your direction
But we re-aligned my broken bones
Well theyre running from a lifeless state
Somehow we lost our hold
All we have with us is change
Left over from what started out as gold
All I ever wanted was to make this house a home
I let go of sinking sand - wont you help me find a stone
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
All I ever wanted
Was to make this house a home
This is what I give to you
Its flesh and blood
Its body and soul
Wont you take whats left of who I am
And try to see it whole
Im holding you responsible for every word I say
If you feel the brokenness
Wont you try and look the other way
I never meant to be so low
I only wanted you to see
That time was healing someone else
But its tearing apart the very heart of me
This is what I give to you
Its flesh and blood
Its body and soul
Wont you take whats left of who I am
And try to see it whole
All I ever wanted was to make this house a home
[...] Read more
song performed by Indigo Girls
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Having Fun
When the clouds in the cosmos wanted to have some fun;
they clashed playfully against each other; fomenting
heavenly droplets of liquid to tumble down in
rhapsodic frenzy,
When the waves in the undulating ocean wanted to have
some fun; they rose and fell merrily with the
exuberant breeze; culminating into a festoon of
magnificently sparkling froth as they dissipated on
the silver sands,
When the battalion of boisterous frogs wanted to have
some fun; they bounced and frisked ebulliently after
midnight; inundating the perpetually still atmosphere
with their brazenly croaking voice,
When the solitary palms wanted to have some fun; they
embedded themselves to unprecedented limits beneath
majestic soil; thunderously clapped thereafter; to
sprinkle the granules in unanimous tandem,
When the fleet of fountain pens wanted to have some
fun; they sketched overwhelmingly funny contours of
their masters; emptying the blotted ink wholesomely on
his tyrannically wretched face,
When the bells in the dilapidated castle wanted to
have some fun; they commenced to nostalgically
reverberate; drowning in sheer ecstasy of the
euphorically tinkling sound,
When the bland glasses of water wanted to have some
fun; they deliberately stumbled when offered to the
unsuspecting visitor; drenching him disdainfully from
head to toe with their clammy caress,
When the sonorously serious eyelids wanted to have
some fun; they winked incessantly at passerby's;
making them the inevitable darling of every
flirtatious heart,
When the army of mischievous red ants wanted to have
some fun; they surreptitiously clambered up the
mammoth elephant's trunk; evoking him to thereby
collapse helplessly towards pathetically cold ground,
When the morbidly aloof spider wanted to have some
fun; it indefatigably ran up and down the periphery of
its web; eventually deciding to perch on the honey
coated biscuit placed by the luxuriously plush
bedside,
[...] Read more
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Christmas-Eve
I.
OUT of the little chapel I burst
Into the fresh night air again.
I had waited a good five minutes first
In the doorway, to escape the rain
That drove in gusts down the common’s centre,
At the edge of which the chapel stands,
Before I plucked up heart to enter:
Heaven knows how many sorts of hands
Reached past me, groping for the latch
Of the inner door that hung on catch,
More obstinate the more they fumbled,
Till, giving way at last with a scold
Of the crazy hinge, in squeezed or tumbled
One sheep more to the rest in fold,
And left me irresolute, standing sentry
In the sheepfold’s lath-and-plaster entry,
Four feet long by two feet wide,
Partitioned off from the vast inside—
I blocked up half of it at least.
No remedy; the rain kept driving:
They eyed me much as some wild beast,
The congregation, still arriving,
Some of them by the mainroad, white
A long way past me into the night,
Skirting the common, then diverging;
Not a few suddenly emerging
From the common’s self thro’ the paling-gaps,—
—They house in the gravel-pits perhaps,
Where the road stops short with its safeguard border
Of lamps, as tired of such disorder;—
But the most turned in yet more abruptly
From a certain squalid knot of alleys,
Where the town’s bad blood once slept corruptly,
Which now the little chapel rallies
And leads into day again,—its priestliness
Lending itself to hide their beastliness
So cleverly (thanks in part to the mason),
And putting so cheery a whitewashed face on
Those neophytes too much in lack of it,
That, where you cross the common as I did,
And meet the party thus presided,
“Mount Zion,” with Love-lane at the back of it,
They front you as little disconcerted,
As, bound for the hills, her fate averted
And her wicked people made to mind him,
Lot might have marched with Gomorrah behind him.
II.
Well, from the road, the lanes or the common,
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning
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Read My Lips
Words and music: doug johnson, mike reno, neil shilkin
Here you come again, lookin for another thrill
With your lipstick, high heel shoes, lookin like youre
Dressed to kill
Tattoo stuck on you, branded by a chosen few
What short memory, now its time to pay your dues
Dont you hear a word I say?
Just turn your head and look this way
And read my lips
Read my lips, listen to me, Im talkin to you
Read my lips
Read my lips, Im tellin you, Im through with you
I know where you go when you need to get some
Bad little actress on a mattress, its seduction
Anything for you
You dont hear a word I say
So turn your head and look this way
And, read my lips
Read my lips, listen to me, Im talkin to you
Read my lips
Read my lips, listen to me, youre history
Ive been watching what you do
And it doesnt take a fool
To see what weve been through
Oh, gonna turn the page on you
(guitar solo)
You dont hear a word I say
So turn your head and look this way
And read my lips
Read my lips, listen to me, Im talkin to you
Read my lips
Read my tips, oh, Im through with you
Read my tips
Read my lips, listen to me, Im talkin to you
Read my lips
Read my lips, listen to me, youre history
Oh yeah, read my lips
I said, read my lips
Read my lips
Just read my lips
song performed by Loverboy
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Steal The Thunder
Here you come again, lookin' for another thrill
With your lipstick, high heel shoes, lookin' like you're dressed to kill
Tattoo stuck on you, branded by a chosen few
What short memory, now it's time to pay your dues
Don't you hear a word I say? Just turn your head and look this way
And read my lips, read my lips, listen to me, I'm talkin' to you
Read my lips, read my lips, I'm tellin' you, I'm through with you
I know where you go when you need to get some
Bad little actress on a mattress, it's seduction, anything for you
You don't you hear a word I say, so turn your head and look this way
And read my lips, read my lips, listen to me, I'm talkin' to you
Read my lips, read my lips, listen to me, you're history
I've been watching what you do, and it doesn't take a fool
To see what we've been through, oh, gonna turn the page on you
(Solo)
You don't you hear a word I say, so turn your head and look this way
And read my lips, read my lips, listen to me, I'm talkin' to you
Read my lips, read my lips, oh, I'm through with you
Read my lips, oh, read my lips, listen to me, I'm talkin' to you
Read my lips, read my lips, listen to me, you're history
Oh yeah, read my lips, I said, read my lips, read my lips
Just read my lips
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
song performed by Loverboy
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Modern Girl
Once a beautiful miss america married mr. right
Had a little baby girl, born on a stormy night
But that was once upon a time, now its a brand new world
Gimme the future, gimme the future, gimme the future with a modern girl
Gimme the future, gimme the future, gimme the future with a modern girl
Somewhere just between the past and somethin dawnin new
Theres a break in the chain, theres a skip in the clock
Girl thats where Im gonna find you
Between the boy I was before and what Im gonna be
Theres a clash on the border, a flame in the sky
Girl thats where youre gonna find me
Cant you hear the planet groanin like a broken down machine
Rusted with the guilty tears of fallen kings and queens
But you and I stand innocent, baby its a brand new world
Gimme the future, gimme the future, gimme the future with a modern girl
Gimme the future, gimme the future, gimme the future with a modern girl
(gimme the future, gimme the future, gimme the future with a modern girl)
Bridge:
Were the son and the daughter on a new freeway
(gimme the future, gimme the future)
Laughin while the road maps blow away
(gimme the future with a modern girl)
Were the son and the daughter and we aint afraid
(gimme the future, gimme the future)
Wont be makin the mistakes our fathers made
(gimme the future with a modern girl)
(gimme the future, gimme the future) oh, gimme the future with a modern girl
(gimme the future, gimme the future) oh, gimme the future with a modern girl
Once a beautiful miss america married mr. right
Had a little baby boy, born on a stormy night
But that was once upon a time, now its a brand new world
Gimme the future, gimme the future - gimme the future with a modern girl...
(repeats out)
(bridge)
song performed by Meat Loaf
Added by Lucian Velea
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Modern Love
I'm here to keep your lonely nights away
cheek to cheek I dance with you today
And the closer I get, the more I'm obsessed by you
And the further I go, the more I'm obsessed by you
You know that I meant what I said
I wanna see you from above
I wanna be left on the dancefloor
I wanna be the modern love
I'm here to keep your loneliness away
I'll be your drained lover if I may
And the further I go, the more I'm possessed by you
And the closer I get, the more I'm possessed by you
You know that I meant what I said
I wanna see you from above
I wanna be left on the dancefloor
I wanna be the modern love
The modern love
Drag me through the masses by the stage
erotic temptations within range
And the closer we get, the more you're obsessed by me
And the further we go, the more you're obsessed by me
You know that I meant what I said
I wanna see you from above
I wanna be left in the dancehall
I wanna be the modern love
The modern love
The modern love
I wanna be your modern love
The modern love
I wanna be your modern love
I'm the modern love
song performed by Yvonne
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ode to the Modern Work-Man
O, wretched modern work-man
The years, they pass you by
Everything you believe
Is nothing but a lie.
O, wretched modern work-man
From your neckties to your socks
You’re nothing but a slave
To pictures in a box.
O, wretched modern work-man
You live for the Public Eye
Your life is but a parody
Whose foundation is a lie.
O, wretched modern work-man
You strive, and save, and yearn
To keep up with the Kamaus
Spending more than you earn.
O, wretched modern work-man
You’re nothing but a slave
Your dreams are dead and buried
Lying in a shallow grave.
O, wretched modern work-man
You strangled your own dreams
You smothered your own happiness
Your hand stifled its screams.
O, wretched modern work-man
For the camera so aesthetic
Beneath the plastic smile
You’re pitiful and pathetic.
O, wretched modern work-man
You work yourself half to death
Chasing pounds and shillings
To swell another’s wealth.
O, wretched modern work-man
You lived your whole life as a show
Yet the only Watcher who mattered
Didn’t like what He saw.
O, wretched modern work-man
When you finally died
Your surname, and hospital bill
Were all you left behind…
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Thinking of tomorrow
I didn’t eat food today; as I wanted to wholesomely famish myself; to
devour
the appetizing chunks of pudding; Tomorrow,
I didn’t sleep blissfully today; as I was overwhelmingly excited to
run;
Tomorrow,
I didn’t play mischievously today; as I wanted to reserve every iota of
my
energy to passionately leap; Tomorrow,
I didn’t drink water today; as I wanted to gulp gallons of voluptuous
wine;
Tomorrow,
I didn’t bathe today; as I wanted to drown my persona in flamboyant
waves of
the salty ocean; Tomorrow,
I didn’t see any object today; as I wanted to view the mesmerizing
beauty of
dawn; Tomorrow,
I didn’t move my legs today; as I wanted to dance unrelentingly all
night;
Tomorrow,
I didn’t revolve my fingers today; as I wanted to sketch intricate
landscapes
with their towering summits in the clouds; Tomorrow,
I didn’t study one bit today; as I wanted to read through volumes of
mystical
tales; Tomorrow,
I didn’t go out today; as I wanted to uninhibitedly explore through the
wilderness; Tomorrow,
I didn’t see the time today; as I wanted to scrupulously count every
unleashing minute tomorrow,
I didn’t smell the air today; as I wanted to inundate my nostrils with
the
enchanting perfume of lotus; Tomorrow,
I didn’t speak today; as I wanted to scream hysterically for hours on
the
trot; Tomorrow,
I didn’t reside in the house today; as I wanted to live the entire
[...] Read more
poem by Nikhil Parekh
Added by Poetry Lover
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