Three poems one after the other

Three poems one after the other I My life: Like graffiti, free, unbridled, spilling all over Like tattoos Worn like fine frills of fashion. And searching for the distilled essence Lost in the gutters of a full life. I want to dip this city in the Holy junction of such gutters, -Won’t that be like a dip in the holy Ganga? Then I will exchange my remaining life With a borrowing from the Almighty’s bank. Doesn’t matter if I am a believer or not; I am the one deriding, after strangling myself. II I am going to start on the last great journey: After reciting a hymn to life And trampling upon the mother of truth and untruth And keeping Parikshit in balance. Let the day break, where it will. III On my breast Crowds mill to push the Juggernaut And jostle on the Hajj pilgrimage. And me? Am the tiny Jerusalem.