A walk around a rising world.

In the summer heat when the world was
on its feet
ready to clap at every move
from the shores of the rainbow.
Having drowned myself in the mugs of
Glory days and forgotten friends
I escaped to walk about in the Pathans bazaar
To inspect the gossiped rejuvenation of the golden bird .


Walking through the uncertain hordes
I witnessed among familiar faces
Strange looks of unisex salons
and broad noses of owning this
and having two of that.

Stumbling across narrow street
Burning with the aggression of the most new steel
I ventured into hood-wink den
Where spirituality was traded and taxed
to poor believing aliens and the better lot (often with funky hair)
who come searching
in this profound land of ours,
to return sickened with what
we have caught from them.


The shaan of forefathers whored out
to brands unrecognizable but which must be had
Because he has it and she has it and
They have it.
O progress what crimes are committed in thy name.


Embarrassed by my intoxicated existence
I returned to the merry
one more round with
the world to celebrate
the coming of age.