The count down

So here we go again 
Straight suits worn 

Straight bags carried 
Straight shoes worn 

Traffic jam, queue on queue 
8am till 5pm on the books 

So here we go again 
Alarm bells ring to robotic wake 

Fax machines and land-line phones 
Ring, ring, conversation of financial make 

Photocopy machines, back from rest 
Paper jams, and run out of inks 

Some office bully, you wish was never around 
Count down of clocks, tic toc, tic toc 

But without all the hustle 
There would be no payday 

So here we go again and again
Straight suits, straight shoes, straight bags 

Traffic jams and robotic wake 
Now for the count down to Friday 

Art by: HIrotaka Suzuki 

Paper plane; I am a travelling man

On a voyage wave 

Travelling south, migrant bird 

Destination breeze 

The Concrete Jungle

Parables of the jungle   

To be caught off guard, loosing out     

Back to the end of lines food chains  

I live in a concrete jungle   

Mega cities of deep steel forestation  

With glass clouds of sky scrappers   

Where the very rich grow wings like birds   

And live on the tallest nest of concrete trees   

Safe and secured with comfort of paint-house view  

Sounds of cars and population chatter   

Echoes in these forest  in mumbling rush   

Like a wave's grand entrance unto shorelines

While pollution on the streets 

Is only matched by that of the cows 

With their moo and back farts, greenhouse gas    

At night fall the hunters do gather

Picking on the vulnerable 

Who missed a safety spot to lay their rest 

The wilder-beast who fell behind on migration.  

Crocodile tears shared in the pond of habitation, 

It is the vultures and eagles that lurk above taunting 

Surrounding encircling before invading lions

To catch vulnerability off guard  

I live in a concrete jungle 

That is just what it is, a concrete jungle 
Cars become birds with their horn blow 
Bicycles become insects with flyby