My Computer Poem by Akhtar Jawad

No need of guns robbers!
Unconditionally I surrender to you,
You may take anything you like,
May be my car, may be my bike.
Take all the money I have,
Leave for me my computer.

Do you see this old sick woman!
My heart, though sick itself,
is beating in this woman,
I need her love.
For my poetry,
I need her inspiration.

In the computer,
her old pictures,
are saved.
In this computer my lovely past,
still breaths for me.
I cannot breathe without these breaths.

At home it’s my friend,
who knows me better.
He understands me.
He is also sometimes sick,
Being attacked by a virus,
But he is never hysterical with me.

One more thing he knows all my secrets.
My flirts with the lovely poetesses,
my visits of the sexy web sites,
he knows what this sick lady doesn’t know.
He never tells anything to her.
He is a tested and trusted friend.

I direly need this computer,
to share my poems with my friends.
That’s all I need,
Yes, my needs are now too limited!