I was ,
sitting on the bank
                      watching,
                            ­         the river,
                                              its flow,  
                                                       the current,
                                                        ­              inner spirit,
                                                         ­                               and
                                                                ­                                 something beyond
                                                          ­                                                               eternal;
                                                        ­                                                                 ­       I felt
                                                            ­                                                                 ­        the river
                                                                ­                                                                 ­             watching me
                                                              ­                                                                 ­                          from within

locked in prison
endless reams of mystification
why this chastisement
why do i feel no guilt or shame?
just a cell full of questions
why am i here?
i speak to a ghost-playful as ever
but that cannot be-never!
why am i not saved? where is my lover?
devoid of emotion, just feet that want to run
         breaking through the walls and bars
running through  a football  field
unable to stop dashing----------------------------------------------------------­--------------------------------------------
--------------------­-----------------------------------------------------------------­-----------------------------------------------------------------­-----------------------------------------------------------------­-------------....

-Vijayalakshmi Harish
13.10.2012

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish

Everyday as I cross this road, here
you pass me flashing a sunny smile,
its magic, touches my being
changing  this colorless life awhile.
At the broad display wall, a casual glance, I'd cast
and think"Such a smile would look nice over there"

Today, a miracle touched my heart with its feather,
your face in its liveliest best, on posters,
are displayed  on the same wall I fantasied.
*The caption proclaimed:"She is the next big star"
This  jaywalker never would see you hereafter.

I was thinking about
getting a job in
sales,
but then I remembered
that would make me satan.

I was going to write
a longer poem than
this one,
but that burrito
I ate
has made me sleepy.

you just don't get real paid.
you do it for free.
you're part of the problem.
if you don't do it for free
someone else will do it
for free.
you ask why that is.

well:
that's not a real job, you do it
because you love it.

"then a real job must be
something you do
that you hate doing."

we don't want you making a living
doing what you love doing.
the rest of us endure misery for money
every ******* day of our lives
and you want to spend your life playing
and you expect us to support you?
you've got a lot of nerve.
who do you think you are?

"i'm not a *******."

you're a drain.
grab a shovel and
dig.
find a computer
and type out something
worthwhile.

give us another rat.
we're running out of rats,
they keep dying...
we haven't worked out why
yet.