A deal with you too

I am a sales man, sell is what I do.

I can sell anything to you.

True Is my story knows the lord.

The first thing I sold, was my umbilical cord.

I was making deals before I could stand.

I got through school by being in a crappy band.

Easy it was, to get through university.

They let me pass for hiding their atrocity.

In the real world soon I was a big man.

Every corporation was my fan.

I was selling stuff across the earth.

They took my word for my goods worth.

I convinced the Indians, the Taj Mahal was mine.

I was selling to the French their own wine.

I brought half the world with my treachery .

My new product was slavery.

Weapons are what I sold to the hungry crowd.

To the market I brought the mushroom cloud.

I am not dead but I live in heaven now.

Also, I own a mansion here don’t ask me how.

I work for the devil and am protected by god.

Beyond your wit is my fraud.

In sleep sometimes I can hear my little girl.

She says I brought the hell to the world.

I whisper back to her these words,

I am a sales man sell is what I do.

I can make a deal with you too.

By

Pradeep Soni

Me,My and Mine

Does it always have to be about you?

Is there anything that we two can't better do?

Why are we, so stuck with my?

Our ego has split water, land and sky.

Atom bombs and cheap guns,

This is what our selfishness has done.

A little share and a bit of care,

and life will no more be a nightmare.

I have made my point, and if you get it it's fine.

But please don't forget this poem is mine.

by

Pradeep Soni

Underneath

If you shake the tree, a few words may fall.

Which ones to choose, will be your call.

You can feel proud if they rhyme

or make any sense.

But feeling proud is not what poets do,

their head is bent and they are looking

at their shoe.

Because underneath, is the dirt which they see,

that is what we all are going to be.

by
Pradeep Soni

No Regrets

She was with a friend, when we were out one night.
There was a spark, and the moment felt right.

I got bold and she was on fire.
She touched my lips and unleashed a desire.

Soon, she became every breath of mine.
With her, I was always on a smoky cloud number nine.

Every moment I craved for her,
Countless moments I saved for her.

Soon occurred to me, she had to go.
As I was reaping, what I did sow.

My friends and family parted with me.
As I was an addict and the reason was she.

Parting was difficult, difficult as hell.
But was ringing hard, the danger bell.

She left me with a longing, longing for more.
Often in desperation I went knocking, door to door.

Now when I see her touching someone else’s lip.
I feel her need and loose my grip.

I have to say it out loud, say it without regret.
I badly miss you my
CLASSIC ULTRA MILD CIGERETTE.

by
Pradeep Soni

applied mathematics !

Two plus two is not always four

is what tells the folklore.

For the squreroot you have to dig deep,

the answer just isn't in the paper leaf.

Astronomical numbers cannot define emotion's measure,

There isn't a formula for everyone's pleasure

If a sum implies miracle is wrong,

don't work on it too long.

But mathematics can help life too,

you can use it to subtract your life's blue.

Add your laughter, divide everyone's pain,

multiply your love and its all ten on ten.

by

pradeep soni

teases

She came with a storm and i was a wreck.

The moment was here, and she trickled down my neck.

She drenched me good from head to toe.

When i wanted more, she had to go.

All that was left were the hanging black clouds.

She was never seen and i was in doubts.

She teases me with her cool breeze,

but never will i trust her again.

I hope you understand this endless pain,

i was talking about the Ahmedabad rain.

by

pradeep soni

mice demise !

My friend was bearing, as he was a little mouse,

soon he moved in with his sweet tiny spouse.

Then my friend couldn't sleep all night,

as they squeaked too often and were only out to fight.

He tried to lure them with some cheese and bread,

but was shocked to see as they had little ones to be fed.

On the notes of mercy, the song went on.

The mice kept squeaking, all nite till dawn

The mice ate up all the cheese and bread,

and bit down the house to shred.

My friend constructed his own demise,

but left me with a piece of advice.

If you have a house,don't keep a mouse,

if so, don't ever let him move in with his spouse.

If so and the sound of squeaking becomes very active,

the mice don't understand a thing about contraceptive.

by

pradeep soni