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Beggars in the Temple Street

on bended knees, fingers
spread with hunger,
crouched double over empty stomachs
and barren chests––

dreadlocks braided with dust and dearth,
lips cracked with

deprivation¬¬––

dried canals strewn across
wrinkled foreheads––

ribs etched into torn khaki shawls,
grim cotton sheet enveloping emaciated limbs–
skin and bones
tearing through––

patches of merry memories, stitched
with lamenting threads,
paucity nibbling away strings of life––

rummaging open dustbins, searching for
a reason to live
in discarded dreams––

meager fortunes knotted along hems
held close to punctured hearts
and naked heels
blistering for more ––

“feed this empty stomach in the name of the almighty”

choruses ring along temple streets, as
copious purses pass by, perhaps someone is in
a generous mood today––

someone occasionally drops a coin or two in his lap

“may god bless you for your generousity”

quivering lips exploiting faiths,
shameless to the extent of starvation––

habituated tongues drivel, reciting epics in sleep
almost an addiction
to selling god––

gaunt ghosts, faded traces of hope
palms open for alms, sanity
slowly slipping away

like sands––



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