Rectification of the living

And I feel this aches me, the radioactivity around,

the corrupt living, these bootless salad days.

On every road and every corner of this town

as said, were buried blood bodies soaked in mud

stalled by some men’s ambitions  and one man’s futile

lesson. Where did the ambition stop?

Oh poor, poor, it never. And the dirty stream will never!

I see some fat ogres making quick-witted promises but

what hurts me is to see a millions losing their judgement.

You present yourself like a whore to be shredded and

what for? Oh poor, poor, you don’t even know.

They call it the lessons of democracy, I call it the -

‘Ambition of the Judas’.

We, the insects are so low in this chain, ever since

they set up their civilization and made its bylaws.

The blackened skin, the iron hands, we fear to even kiss

our children, and these futile lessons still want us to

go on and on like a mute servant to death.

I wish to stand on a mountain and shout and when all

the world gather, burn the world of its lessons and ambitions.

And when they confront me with their mystified wrath,

I shall only say ‘Live longer’.


Thursday Poets Rally Week 56.