Money - Poem by Akhtar Jawad
He is a wealthy man but he cannot sleep,
Even if he sleeps it's not truly deep,
When he sleeps nightmares too frightening,
Disturb whole night like thunders n lightening,
Income tax raids he sees in his dream,
Bribes work and he gets rid of the team,
Robbers come in and put guns on his head,
Beat him mercilessly and shoot him dead,
After his death his children fight each other,
Forget their father and neglect their mother,
He shouts during sleeps then takes sleeping pills,
How away he is from the lovely hills!
Deep, very deep, deeper than deep, rather deepest,
Is the home of the soul where we go for a rest!
Where dreams are looking our ways with hopes,
Where flowers knit beauty in a tying rope
Where we climb on a grassy green slope,
And when we slip we are embraced by the rope,
Where buds kiss us and the branches of charms,
Around our neck blow storms like her arms,
Where we take bath in a cold stream,
Where we're alone in a pleasant sun beam,
Where freely we can sit for the needful heat,
Where we listen to the slowest heartbeat,
Where neither is the law nor fruit forbidden,
Where for love no need to be hidden.
No thirst is there no hunger is there,
Money for all that is needed only here,
I visit that valley at all not expensive,
Not at all painful and at all not pensive,
How happy I am but one cannot think,
Even if one thinks one cannot ink,
Money is the means and not the end,
Follow me if you can I am making a trend,
How peaceful and sexy is the old man's deep,
Though no money, but wealthy nice sleep!
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