A Sketchy Poet

G one are the days of admiring Mother Nature. Open your eyes to this short movie feature.     One more baby born in the nineties, Hearing the cold whispers of his parent’s deities.     This childhood of his was lean, mean & no money to boast around. His peers were like minded, hence the voiceless screamed on every Merry-Go-Round. His caretakers loved him but they were harnessing their own battle. This BOY wanted to walk the talk, but he was shoved around like some cattle.     This BOY collected some talents & he funded their amusement. But his efforts did not monetize, it led to his societal resentment.     You learn from your surroundings & he did the same. He learnt of his empty pockets, but his mind never left the game.      This BOY knew this was temporary, wasn’t about to make it a lifetime.  His elders were doing the ordinary, he wanted to be prime time.     He was surrounded with the spirit of ‘Being Hum

You come to this city with hope and you dare to dream. But sometimes dreams don’t become reality and you lose your self-esteem. This city is running away from you, can you catch it? The standard of living is high, can your life afford it? You travel to many beaches, to catch the running waves. But most of your life is spent on catching running trains. This city is always on the move, no tragedy pulls its chains. You cannot be a roadblock, because the ones who beg also change lanes. Kya tum ne paaya, ya tum ne khoya? Tum chuk gaye, toh kisne faayda uthaya ? Logon ne idhar Sapno ki bhij boye. Aur paison ke liye bahut roye. Aake idhar tum apna naseeb azzmaoo. Yeh hai Mumbai meri jaan, ho sake toh isme sama jaoo. Composed, directed and written by :          ...  Wedmer Picardo *****************                        About the author  :

You can't have my number. They won't give me a device. Getting money out of them is like rolling a number, Absent on the dice. Twice I begged, Twice I cried, My reasons were not clear… Because my conscience lied. I had to let go of my first                   & I stumbled upon second hand. But my dearest kin reminded me… This isn’t your piece of land. Stand up speak out, was not my kind. My morals were high, but the girl was turning me blind. Squeezing out an attitude, chasing out my childhood. Getting that first digital paper, was me stepping on to manhood. Neanderthal was I was when the device was a binocular vision. I let go scrapping and clawing, this was no more my secondary occupation. I had you finally, I could make you cool. This stuff is easy, the knowledge that doesn't translate from school. Then I met others, who were smarter than you. Suddenly you were not that special, hence my emotion