THE POT BELLY BARD - THE BIKER GOD HAS ARRIVED

Over the horizon racing with the rays of the sun

I see a speck growing in size and sound

He touches your soul as he whizzes past

For sure, The Biker God has arrived.

As he dismounts from his mechanical stead

He is greeted with admiration, awe and jealousy

Couldn't care less, as he takes a deep puff and let's out rings of smoke

The circle of life of mortals; The Biker God ponders on his next destination.

The scars on his face and lines on his forehead

Remind that he is no showoff but a respected rider

One who has cheated death at corners and made peace with the Devil

Yet seen sights and people to behold; experience and wisdom his pillion.

His bike is his legacy and he a legend

The helmet and gloves his armor' as he throttles and pulls down his visor

The Bard sheds a silent tear of joy, and with folded palms cries out

"Make way ye novice, The Biker God has arrived."

THE POT BELLY BARD - IT'S A MAD MAN'S WORLD OUT THERE

On the signal when traffic stops and time flies-by

I see a lady, unkempt hair but a neat saree

She nods her head and talks to ghosts

I stare, the others mock, and then we move on.

Today morning while i bought the paper

Shaggy hair, worn out pants and stench was the man behind me,

Muttering Sachin, India and Australia, and events unknown to history

Offering him tea, while others pointed, i moved on.

Barefoot marches an anonymous on the highway

With his stick he waves at speeding wheels

He picks up rubbish and roadkill, the highway's uncrowned guardian

Life seems an unending journey, as he has forgotten his destination and moves on.

All the sane men around me i observe

Some fake happiness while others cry aloud

"It's a mad man's world out there", says a pensive Bard

Watching the crazy and the homeless, I could not agree more.