Some talk...

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.