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Showing posts from September, 2014

This poem has attained ... nirvana

This... is a hungry poem.

It is    not meant to be a hungry poem.
It is meant to be a contented satisfied
poem that does not embarrass its government.
But it has nothing to feed on so it's hungry.

This... is an angry poem.

It is angry about
potholes and poverty
and the crowded buses and the rickety trains
and the baby-eating rats in the hospitals
and the cop-killing rich kids driving their dads' cars
and the police who lock up youths in the cells and
beat them to death and the miners cutting down the
forests and the army's atrocities on the
Northeast and the Naxals' butchering of hapless
tribals and the costs of onions and tomatoes
and ever rising petrol and diesel prices
and and and and and and and and and and and and...

This is a des..perate poem.

It wants to talk to someone who'll listen and tell
it not to commit suicide and tell it to
hope and love and be friends and see the roses and
the rivers and the koels and the moonlight and
hear the eternal music of the …