Rations

Wait for rations
all hours in a day
Someone somewhere
wastes away
double standards
are here to stay
rich have millions
and games to play
poor do rise
have your say
your say matters
in rags and tatters
we won’t let you live
until you give
up in the smoke
wealth croaks
humanity triumphs
vanity limps
end hegemony
burn fake money
food you produce
all yours to eat
Rations for rich
who don’t know
how to cook
let alone sow
that is only just
rise we must

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All that jazz

Moonwalking tarmac mile
smooth feet, broad smile
work doesn’t have to be
full of boredom, stench bile
never paid millions for what I do
admit though, I have got style
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Stubborn 

I live where 

modernity is unable
to break through barriers
disabled by customs
Underground change
will derange, exchange
long held traditions
new generation
adopt, adapt style
resistance is futile
still I will die fighting
 

Pièce de résistance

thought passes through
light years of contemplation
ingrained in the fabric of the universe
after billion books were written, read and memorised
all in the name of love of I
it is never you,
if it is, it is never true
day will come and death will knock
the redemption door will stay shut
until I is left in a thick, dreadful rut
and a journey commences
to discover the soul denied
how body concealed and heart lied
life beyond self, sitting on the shelf
the first, middle and the last book
of devotion, selfless emotion, agape
distant evolution, of kind
not considered worthy of mention, before
what could have been the intention
of such worthless, clueless thought,
opinions of sages sought,
to defeat hope, desire of something before I
I commences scouting, shouting abuse
at green shoots, inkling of new,
uncharted galaxy, time bends, skew
perception, accept reception of end
lend a hand, be that of destiny
annihilate I, old adversary, good bye
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A NOMAD ON THE LOOSE

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