Uprooted

Thrown overcrowded in a familiar white block,

A whiff of uncertainty along the narrow corridor,

A heavy native accent adorns the tried medium,

The tool of survival, the tongue to have wider view.

At every nook and cranny, at every pub trendy,

In grey loose plush track pants or an over-sized jacket branded

With its attached hat thrown back ‘I don’t care’ and

The striped rims accentuating ‘What I wear’ over branded shoes.

The others from narrower backgrounds follow suit so,

The same uprooted ones doing the same gait,

In a sort of hopping, knees bending more with springy effects,

While the head and shoulders plunging more forward

And the hands half-tucked in pockets, the pondering zones

‘Where gonna end up before the other day begins…,’

How mimicking is going to fare for this pale hope

So full but easy-going as this trash I cope with to present.

In bleary yet struggling eyes heaps of insecurities dance

To the tune of how the funky vibe turns on,

The only solace left to flaunt ‘I am no less,’

But the more worth-endowed left to rot this way.

‘You Chinoise?’ A volley of verbal attacks

For a sniffer as I who study their ways amid personal struggles.

I wonder why many hurl at me this silly question…

Despite my being displaced by the same one they think I am!

Whatever merits there’re for being among the uprooted ones,

There are things under one’s nose not to be neglected as well.

For a fit of emotion can be turned inward only—

The less cushioned inmates against any possible blow,

The despairing cries of fated underprivileged ones on loose.

For the granted ledge has to be maintained in swiveling attention

With every means for crueler the world tends to be,

But, the other day, how warm and yielding ones at ease seem to be.