The Poor Know manythings what the rich may not know..
Plenty of food on the table,
plenty of restaurants that serve,
plenty of appetite that we have,
Eat and wash it with drinks soft and hard,
come back home and sleep on the bed,
middle of the night, start the burbs,
then lie down to have the sleep,
again, burps, burps with rolling gas,
sometimes hiccups accompany and rocks,
look for the antacid in the shelves,
in the drawer and kitchen cabinets,
if find a sachet or a bottle,
that seems to be a God,
mix it with water and gulp it,
slowly the stomach is quietened,
rumbles not heard, the gas is not out,
the sleep arrives and we sleep..
A poor man who has no food,
may sleep silently in trance.
A poor man who has no comfort,
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Conflicting Idealism!
When mother had put on the dress to me,
She told me not to let anyone to remove that,
When I became slightly older, she gave me,
The long skirts and blouses to wear,
Then the sarees of various materials, color and designs,
Filled my closets, I used to run around,
When I was young and then I was advised,
To walk slowly without making any noise,
Though the anklets, the parents had worn,
Around my ankles always made the ringing tone,
For them to know where I was,
From wherever they were,
Mother advised me to sleep on the side,
And for my every sneeze she arrived with pride,
To cover my exposed joined feet and to correct,
A few strand on the face and smiled,
A well educated man whom my parents and relatives loved,
tied the three knots to make me his wife.
This is the guy, who asks me to do,
What my parents prevented me to do.
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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He Doesn't Want To Be Nagged For Petty Things!
The prayer of bringing up to the clouds,
The invention of airplanes by the wrights,
The plea of knowing the welfare of kiths and kins,
The holding of tablet in both hands to see and appease,
The request of having high abode, good salary and fine clothes,
Granted in excess to strive for better and then sloth,
The desire to have good food, drink and health care,
Available in abundant in various branded fair,
The super powers of the world blessed the selected,
To have all these comforts for not to be nagged,
But taken away the peace from them for them to go back,
To kneel and cry for the peace they have lost in Hammocks,
That tied between two trees of lust and greed,
Up from the ground, in the middle of the air,
With the foundation of flimsy materialistic desires.
Now peace is the only request, plea and the dream,
With which Gods of Heaven may be comfortable with,
Not to be disturbed with multiple confusing begs and beseeches.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Is It The Hormone Of God?
women of portions, pleasant and attractive,
women of notion, free and enterprising,
women of vision, counting and galloping,
women of illusion, courting, and suffering.
women of innocence, birthing and lactating,
women of emotions, loving and longing,
women of pride, working and worrying,
women of gays, polluting and mutating.
Female are the reasons for the birth of gays,
as they dispose the hormones in the water ways.
Female are the reasons, for the men to be mutated,
for spiking the air and the land to be adulterated.
When you look at a man with a swinging hip,
when you hear a man with softened voice,
when you see a man with shiny cheeks,
when you glance a man with a tight pants,
Stop blaming them as if they are oriented,
blame these women who spiked them with female hormones,
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Take The Stone and Throw! Are You Ready?
Abandoned, battered and alone,
A few small mouths and old relations,
She owns nothing, not even her respect,
She has a spring that can be sold,
Day and night, the buyers are ready,
No need advertisement, the dogs can smell,
The most abused helpless profession,
Where the commodity is repeatedly auctioned,
Not the baby chasers at home,
Chase these babies of their neighbors,
When men are useless and helpless,
Women resort to prostitution.
When men are spineless and voiceless,
Women work as prostitutes.
When men are ignorant and violent,
Women are forced to be prostitutes,
When men fail to work with their brains,
Women lift their skirts for public display.
Prostitutes were everywhere in Europe and America,
Even in Japan when they were poor and destitute.
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Strange Sickness.
You are the reason for my illness,
You are the remedy for my sickness,
The strange sickness attacks me,
By increasing my heart's rhythm,
Giddiness in the head,
Palpitation at the chest,
Loss of appetite and
Scores of other symptoms,
Feeling quite hot when you are far,
Feeling strange when you are near,
All people seem to be happy and smile,
When you hold my hands,
Everyone seem to be sad and cry,
When you go away from me,
What sickness is this so strange,
That is induced by you?
What sickness is this so unique,
That is cleared by you?
You are the reason for me to be awkward,
Giggle at my mother when she scolds,
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Demo Crazy. We are fools..
What is hardship, when it has the degree,
What is that degree, which we have to agree,
I say that I work hard and suffer,
you may say that you feel better,
someone say that their life is a misery,
sufferers keep quiet and it is Irony.
Those who are homeless and penniless,
left on the road sides to be vagrants.
These vagrants have no idea,
that they have the right to plea,
thousands on the first world and
millions on the third world, but
churning stomachs prevent them
from executing their rights.
How docile they are,
to suffer in silence,
They are better than a silent lamb,
for they endure their entire life.
As long as we follow Adam Smith,
As long as we believe in demo crazy,
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Be An Example!
Banks of rivers and ponds have screw pines,
that has the flower, so fragrant and divine,
the smell invites from the distant, but the cobras guard,
Guards are distracted for the blooms to be extracted.
The elongated leaf like petals are folded,
To keep on the plaited hair of the young damsels,
When the season for blooming arrives,
Our girls are fragrant with screw pines flowers.
We play under the sun all day long,
Oiled hair friends of us at our side, tag along,
We run around the village paths and tunnels,
Sprint after the calves and kids that are innocent.
Innocence of us preserved, nothing to contaminate,
Additives and preservatives not added, to manipulate,
Removing the innocence from our children is a crime,
When adults are disoriented, how to sublime?
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Where are the intelligent people?
I agree with everyone that we are over populated,
Because we have our genetic pool intact,
We have never believed in the Eugenic Movement,
that promoted the selective breeding in human,
Thousands of human were sterilized in Europe,
For they had the low IQ, as if the IQ is genetic,
Millions of men and women were slaughtered in the wars,
As the dictators trusted the inferior genes in holocaust,
Human are manipulated to live the life of single,
In the name of the son and his cross and struggle,
If the men are clever, Catholics force them to be the priests,
If a girl is beautiful and intelligent, she is sent to nunnery,
The good genes of Europeans are lost in their beliefs,
The good genes of Europeans are lost in their misbehavior,
They need the people, who have good genes in their brains,
To do the programming and to run their everyday life,
We run for it leaving our loved ones behind,
We are the coolies in their land, still proud to say that.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Wild People's Wild Ride!
Just a bicycle to ride around this neighborhood,
Of six continents, mountains and thick woods,
A float underneath makes a hovercraft to sail,
Oceans of knowledge and wisdom parasail.
Not puncturable tubes on its confidant wheels,
Cautious breaks applied at every seducing tool,
That sells the conscience at bargaining price,
Love the cross continent tribes with no surprise.
Abundant of resources to be shared and enjoyed,
The games of currency, metal and commodities,
Weaken the money and devalue the affordability,
The countries pay treble and get halted financially.
Riding through the economic vault of universities,
Where the brains found out the principles of economies,
How far we shall go on this pyramidal lavishing,
Are, what we leave behind, more important than the living?
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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