the sound of emptiness

what is the residue
stripped of high sounding titles
taken out of limousines
bereft of computerised wardrobes
stripped of suits from harrods
and all fashion capitals of the world

what is the residue
stripped of mindless ostentation
perhaps a barren wind blowing
a drifting cloud bearing no rain
maybe humility can fill the void

robbed of innocence

africa where are the children
not anywhere near playgrounds
dying in droves in battle fields
waging senseless wars everywhere
minds befuddled by heavy drugs
committing fratricide, matricide, patricide
robbed by the greedy of their childhood
denied the knowledge of the sanctity of life
turning killing into an enjoyable game

life

maybe in fairy tales
perhaps in a fool's paradise
built on illusions and delusions
to live happily ever after

coming across hills and mountains
walking across plains at times
the tumultuous and unnavigable rivers
at times swimming in calm waters

marriage

the rose in full bloom
the sweetness of its fragrance
the allure of the pink petals
the allure of the red petals

then the thorns take centre stage
the beauty of the petals is gone
the pricking dents that beauty
then the deep revulsion sets in