Love Mother love
,Infuse divine spirit ,
You alone in this universe
To  a child ,-that miracle merit .

More of the Ganges' holy-water ,
Your milk through the child flow ,
With your smile ,
The child changes its profile ,
And with your aura , it glows .

Your watching eye ever  casts ,
Fence as girdle to sustain care ,
Your azure wish ever cherishes ,
To make the Innocence fair to fair .

Trillion oceans are trivial ponds ,
When the depth of your love the child shares ,
No full-moon is so glorious when the sky is bare ,
And the Earth can never give birth ,
As the Mother –Kali through you does ,
The whole humans stand to salute ,
The Unified-Field of your love on Earth .

Love Sarah love ,
Fill Sharon’s cup ,
And endow her to unburden your grief ,
The hellish holocaust ,
Must have a psychic burst ,
To give the hanging morbid a relief .

From your bower , hour by hour ,
'The Orphan Shoes' gains ground ,
And for your pains ,it would unchain ,
The  aboriginal  sins world around .

Love Mother love
,Infuse divine spirit ,
You alone in this universe
To  a child ,-that miracle merit .

The Public Girl

I know  am a pearl ,
Often in the day time ,
They call me a nasty girl ,
I am  delicious food ,
I am  drink to mitigate thirst ,
I am a bed to rest ,
I rise when the sun sets in the west .

I have no father as the common girls have ,
My mother fostered me in the dark street ,
I saw her yielding ,serving for food and shelter ,
I felt how for me she did bother !

I do not claim your jilted decency ,
Nor do I have any faith in your word ,
You put trap and catch a bird ,
And make it a roast for your drink ,
You the politicians ,you the corporate ,
You pollute the earth and reset its fate !

My mother was a daughter of a pious farmer ,
Her father trusted a son of an earl ,
And she at her adolescence winged her willow cast ,
The aristocrat swine ,took her away for feast of wine ,
Then she was a sale ,in a brothel ,
Some months before my tragic birth .

I remember my early teen ,
When I was less than fourteen ,
The greedy eyes and swell tongues ,
From my mother’s clients upon me hang .

I remember the occasional presses ,
And violent intake of poisonous kisses ,
From society figures and masquerades ,
And still I feel their blacksmith –like deals ,
And see myself pitted on society’s anvil .  

You are not the first person to hear my tale ,
Many a broken-wing vagabond and tragic hero ,
Many a fate-stricken society’s zero ,
With storm and turmoil finger my bell ,
And seek life’s Heaven in my living hell .

I am a licensed-leisure with clock-tick hour ,
Often an escort for your travel –trip ,
You furrow my land without putting seed ,
You seek my art in every part ,but not my heart ,
And never you wish to know my feeling ,
I know your demand and service of my dealing .

Ah! I had I had my own sorrow and whim ,
A happy family –home as my dream ,
A faithful husband with children two or three ,
Could I have Sabbath and church-prayer free !

Oh no ! Your time is over ,you may go ,
Do you hear the **** ? Yes you hear ,
I have half an hour to attend the next client ,
And to repair the ravage , and a beguile smile .