Definitions
21/6/08
Our neighbours;
They do not exist nearby
They are far apart
like our apartments.
Our possessions;
They no longer need us
We badly need them
Like sex and sin.
Ours is a new happiness;
It is always dichotomous.
We happen to be happy
But we don’t know how.
Our successes;
Their colour is green.
But we find our face gray
When someone goes green.
Our greatest goal;
It’s to somehow make and mar.
Make just to our sake
And mar whatever is others’
For us, our well being;
It is the state of being better.
A little better than the one
Who is staying next door.
And finally our faith;
It’s not of Gods or like Gods’
We know better than Gods
That our wealth’ll open the Gate.
houses are dead pocessions and of course the humans inside also!
a good observation on mundane life and on human behaviour...good inference too...good write, jay...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
People define every thing Subjectively Of course