Hardik Vaidya Poems

I often wonder, what did my school offer?
Did it do anything substantial?
People ask me, genuinely
What is the spice of your sexy write?
...

I am 14. A boy just in my teens.
The death of my father,
Was brought to me by the newspaper.
Head lines screamed.
...

The winners claim your nights,
Plunder you, relish you, and you scream in delight.
At just about 11 AM the punters put you to bet,
They play you to bed, they want you on bed, you bite them off
...

At 2 Pm, when the sun is right,
Right because he burns bright.
It's humid as always,
To sweat is sweetness.
...

I almost killed a Pegion,
She was flying well below 50.
I was cursing on the sealink exactly at speed limit.
Had I hit the bird.
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Why do I write poems?
Why do I split rinds of Onion?
What do I get by digging into my minds grave?
What further is left for me to crave?
...

The women who work for Vouge.
Young, vivacious, and full of blokes.
Their bodies are like Swarovski.
Crafted for keeps, in the shelfs of a mans precious wall piece.
...

It is a fresh day, I deplane my bed of dreams.
Walk to my window sill, to peep out and check what's in.
I see walks of all talks, some slow some fast
Some burning food, some fat, some fuel, some past.
...

Now I know your little secret,
How silly of me to not get it straight.
Why your tail blinks right,
When you want to take a left.
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I have the right, to peck on you.
I drive the Bentley, look when I talk to you.
You be at my beck and call,
I drive the Audi, stand up when you see me honk.
...