Fifty is a random number,
Attracted by the logical
Mathematical calculating
Alphanumeric functional
Mind that dwells in many
Vastly complex equations,
Fifty can be very random,
But in marketing, it is not,
Simple fact of its worth
Will only be noted when
The equation is challenged,
And instead of an integer
Like fifty, a more profiting
Number is the forty-nine
Point ninety-nine, and
That is the worth of an
Item worthy of a fifty,
Fifty is not that random,
It is half of a hundred –
A number that is labelled
Separately than all others,
A symbol, a century, and
Fifty is half a century,
And so, I choose to write
Fifty random poems in
One challenging month,
And now, I write my fifty.

A Child’s Game

Raise your level of imagination,
To that of a child building those
Blocks of letters, stacking them,
With that contagious tiny smile,
He might get absorbed into the
Colours and use that to solve a
Problem that he himself might
Have created, but he will feel
A challenge with exhilarating
Rush of emotions once logical
Reasons permits him to finish,
Or he might endure one more
Rule of his own creation where
The edges of perfectly-shaped
Letter cubes should be aligned,
Or not, as it depends on his brain
Waves cooperating with his heart
To beat for a vibrant self-portrait,
Here, creativity was explored with
A bunch of wooden cubes, see,
One might disregard the details to
Conclude that it is ever so boring,
But maybe you just need to raise
Your level of imagination, and
Observe those friendly monsters
Surrounding this child to play with
Him this simple but awesome game.

Dear One Percent

Roll a die and take a chance
At leaving Earth behind for
An adventurous voyage to
A nameless planet. Accept
Your very low intelligence,
And challenge yourself for
A bit of dignity: carry your
Own bags, and put them
In your million-dollar-jet
For we can surely sit one
Of your sibling chimps on
That comfy chair behind
That wooden desk, but
Do not worry about the
Picture frame on the wall
For the both of you are
Really identical; nobody
Will tell the difference.
And remember to return
The die you just rolled,
Because I know you, Mr.
One Percent, you greedy
Bastard. Yours Sincerely,
A peaceful ninety-nine.