Published in Countercurrent
Children in unison rise
Crying for the ultimate reprise.
Bus fares hike
Water jets strike
Murderers walk free
The land is no longer safe
The world round
In anger and unrest
Where do they stand?
Why have they become the voice of
The angry clans?
Why is it they scream
In angst against the regime?
Why is it they burn?
Why is it they turn?
Why is it they beat
A policeman on the street?
Where are the days
When children played with sunshine and laughter?
Butterflies flutter near the green riverside.
Hopscotch. Hop, hop and stop!
Where is the song on the young man’s lip?
Where is the hope in their heart of eternal youth?
Why is it they step on their graves
Like old men with hopeless glass torn eyes?
Torn — broken by vassals of angry putrid protest
Stale with anger, bloody with hate —
Click here to read the complete poem at Countercurrent.org
Published in Countercurrent (Re-used for a paper at PEN International Symposium in Vienna on 25/11/20190)
Celebrate the Independence Day
While Munch-like screams explode
Like fireworks lighting the night sky
Silent, vociferous, full of angst
Unable to speak
Bleak, bleak, bleak.
Oh, the cruelty of life!
The anger and strife
Guernica revisited each time.
This is not just about soldiers who die.
But about all those who silently cry
For a dozen different whys?
Click here to read the rest….
This is the world of our dreams.
I see rainbows dotting the streams,
Vibrant colors reflected from the sun’s rays,
Paint the world in myriad ways
Creating an aurora of of brilliance
In which life teems in millions.
Colors and tunes harmonize
Breeding a plethora of styles.
Zillions of stars smile and among themselves converse…
‘How abundant, how wonderful is this creation, this universe!’
This is the world of our nightmares.
People running down the stairs,
Rushing, pushing, shoving.
Gore and blood dripping.
Bombs dropped, homes torn,
Children standing forlorn.
Adults seething with rage
Drawing lines of hate,
Borders, color and creed,
Differences that anger breed.
Life is overtaken by greed.
Then will come the great flood
That will wash away the bad blood.
And again, in my land of dreams,
I will see the rainbow dotting the streams…