Madras

Madras Hotel lobbies, hotel bars Hotel rooms, air conditioned cars City sights and sounds and smells A smile, a frown, a shout impels The thoughts within to exude And express themselves without interlude Here no blossoms, no sweet fresh air Save the scented jasmine in the women's hair And the two don't mix, as we all know Like the fires of hell and virgin snow Flowing bright and silken dress Saris adorn the putrid mess Hems lifted gently to protect them From certain ruin in the amalgam Of open sewers - each gutter one Of refuse tips - the pavements on Rotten, decaying, organic matter Dried up dung and vomit spatter From the mouths of the unlucky Poor and destitute - never plucky "They are content with their lot" (Steeped in drink, their guts they rot) Laying near the dirty door Their filthy rags bright no more In the street or on a stair Ignored by all without a care And yet...and yet, life goes on Each to their own - their God isn't one Some are born to thrive and prosper Others to poverty and despair And here we are, visitors just Though we discreetly watch - as we must! And absorb each heart rending sight Forsaking those in their plight But if we give - sometimes we do There are no thanks, nor feelings due Because are we helping them buy food Or alcohol which kills? Then we brood And the rich they come in chauffeured car Or the latest model bought by Pa In designer clothes, their scarves unfurled The stench, the poor? Another world!