Bay-city Blues

Lying on my bed,
wondering what to write;
With incoherent words,
and dreams losing sight.

With car alarms going off,
and distant canine screams;
I realize I’m back,
to the city from my dreams.

I grew up here in darkness,
in the city of shimmering lights;
Whoring out her beauty,
while prostituting my life.

The city which never sleeps,
or so the city-folk say;
with middle-class zombies working,
through nights as in their days.

I look out of my window,
to the moon without her stars;
While the blind walk her streets,
and politicians masks her scars.

As the monsoon begins to thunder,
on the city I love so much;
With all the pain and hunger,
she longs for my hollow touch.

And the dying gateway arches,
with memories of a monarchy it slew;
Upon her infected shores,
I sing my Bay-city blues.

By: Viraj Belgaonkar

Bombay- India

2 thoughts on “Bay-city Blues

Pen it... or aaa type it. u know what i mean.

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