Fast food

I like water

I like french fries

I like burgers

I like to cry.

The other day,

I filled a McDonald’s tray –

with tears that were frozen

yet tasted ambrosian.

I had to smile,

while I cried.

If tears tasted this good,

I wouldn’t be ordering food!

Undercooked burger, chewy fries.

I couldn’t eat them, continued to cry.



Roads end up nowhere after driving for miles.

Roads of water make you sink.

In the deepest ditch, you’re found with cuts and stings.

Swim; among sharks and squids;

there she waits, your golden fish.

Watches dance in free time as you sing your life’s rhyme.

Swim faster. Away from predators.

For the win, for the kids.

Before you perish, we’ll play the Olympics.



The village had gathered,

across the river

that used to be.

Cold, dry, winter winds.

Feeble men, unclothed,


Asha had died.

The famine took her too.

Planned, methodical.

The old trees, shameless.

They couldn’t stop the scorching sun.


Lying trees and suns,

and others that came.

You, Asha’s killers!

Go away.