Words of Prabeen not just pressed, but that touch and impress!

Yes PM!


Yes, PM!
PMPrime Minister? Oh no, I am a program manager, oh no, I am a project manager! Forget it! It’s all me, the Portfolio Manager!
Well, no Post Mortem on the warm reception I receive!
Ah! Leave it all aside! I am the PM, Post Master, I am just almost on the par of a Post Peon, I earn so much by so small margin!
Ah! Give me a break! It’s Paisa Money!
Oh no, how could you just miss them!? Paa Maa! Pitaa Maataa!
It’s Pappa Mamma! Oh! Poor Paapaa, Poor Mommy!
Give me a break for God sake! It’s all about Paisa Money!
And guess for whom it’s all the buzz and fuzz; fuss, it’s me!
I am the PM, so called, Poor Man!
Oh, no! My eyes open! It was all fake, God sake, it was all in the dreams I was eating and drinking and sleeping, because I have nothing to eat, nothing to drink, nothing to cheat, nothing to sleep with nor to sleep on; nothing to thrive on, nothing to put on; nothing to live with, nothing to live on, nothing to live for; but everything to shy for, everything to cry for, everything to die for!
And who ultimately suffers, it’s me! Poor Me!
It’s all past, it’s always the night as it seems, it’s always the pm, the last Post Meridien!
It’s all about the PM, Paisa Money! Poor Man! Poor Me!

God, alas! Really, the Poor Me, if the Poor Man the nation’s PM, the Prime Minister! Oh no, why mustn’t I be! They take all votes citing Poor Me, Poor Man!
Not just for the goons, for all even the rest, I am always the Printed Mantra, Printed Money!
I am so Prevalent (man), then why am I not worshipped as God!? Oh no, that’s impossible, how could be so helpless, God!
I always get highlighted, ya, literally; but always blind sighted, actually!
I am always in the words, literally; but never in action, never in motion (except some award winning picture motion), practically!
I am always put on the hot seat, literally; but always under the seat, virtually!
I am always celebrated, but never am I the celebrity!
So why am I not the Prime Man? Why always am I projected as the Present (moment), but always remain that Past Memory!?
I am the Prithvii (earth) and the Mitti (soil)!
Every netaa (leader), all the janataa (people) cite me, recite me, so much Poor Me!

Not am I the Perfect Man!?
Dare to think I am a Poet Man!
The Prophet, the Monk – who just knows it all! Ummm, but never thinks to do it all!
It’s all political, and I am a Puppet Man used by the Politicians, Man!

Ummm, always needing the helping hand; oh, the Poor Me!
Yes, the Practical Me, the Poor Me!

Alas! Again, I day-sleep, discounting the Poor Me, poor moments; never on a premium, yet to live the golden PMoments!
Yes, PM!


~ Prabeen Kumar Pati

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