Dirty Poetry Poem by Sathya Narayana

DIRTY POETRY
♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

I'm the poetry of the drudging millions!
I'm the poetry of the unrepresented
who're spread all over the world
from East to West and South to North!

I belong to those
who live under flyovers
in countries rolling in money;
and to those who lead roiling lives
in nations with mushroomed ghettos!

I'm dirty, rotten and blemished
with tears, sweat and blood!

I have no hopes; no passions
and no sense of humour and
in beauty and love, I show no fervour!

I'm hated by my romantic brethren
who swing and sway on nature's knees,
who listen to cuckoos coos
and who look brilliant
in besmeared rainbow hues!

They live in hard-bound books, on buff papers.
They smell Charlie or Poison,
enamoring dirty bards.
They adorn the hands of sophisticated poets
in bow-ties, impeccable suits and Gucci shoes.

What if I'm just a stinking paper bundle?

I'm happy to take that position with humble bow
below their debonair texts, sans a pretest
at the rock bottom of their huge pile of texts.

But lo, the characters in my poesy
are strong and alive
slaving and drilling since times immemorial.

They have toil-tailored muscles;
hunger-nurtured patience
and time-tested servile manners.
and they know the heights of the dress-circle.

They are benumbed to agony and envy.
They are used to pain and suffering
and ready to take the weight
of my brethrens' bubbling vanity! !