[Verse] Survival

Household chores over,
a handbag in tow
she runs, boards the morning bus
spends hours buried in files

A coarse throat
belts out the latest chartbuster
drumming up a rhythm
on an empty stomach

Outside, with a licensed official gun
he searches out victims
Their wails, loud protests
drowning the crack of gun-shot

Tatters barely covering his torso
in torn trousers, with a bowl in hand
a blank face smeared in tears,
treads many miles a day

Clothes peeled, one by one,
she sizzles and gyrates
in front of lecherous eyes,
blinded by psychedelic lights

The pitfalls of being born
in a strife-ridden world
a mammoth effort to survive
Darwin smiles

Vijay © 25th March, 2006