"If you want peace, be prepared for war
Which is a sure thing without any either - or.
Is there anyone open to non-violence walk
Who has that drive for a peace talk ?
War must be fought think I, with no other solution
Guns once bunkered up won't know dissolution.
Call then the soldiers, set up the cannons
Destroy the forts, bulldoze the mansions.
Let unstinted carnage reign supreme everywhere
Procure the bombs today that lay the earth threadbare.
Not a soul should survive, I issue the command,
If any peace - promoter found, send him on remand.
Should one signal out any olive branch,
Tell him peace has now no chance.
Riding with power, I shall be the omnipotent supreme
Subjugating the world to my feet is my only dream.
Thought of war fails to give me moral jitter,
War will be raged finally, with repercussions bitter.
Sanguinary will be the history now as tainted will be the scene
The seen will be unseen henceforth as the unseen will be seen.
Enough of chasing elusive peace; now bullets from drone,
Wives will wail now and mothers will groan".
Thus finished he; History testifies that a dictator had his will,
Throbbed the cruel heart saying go for the ****
The heartless soul is deaf and dead to the peace notion
You debate for; he only debates against the motion.
War is a **** thing; a butchery; no act of a sage,
Humanity must reign supreme for all the world's a stage.
It's vivid that the aforesaid was uttered by a bragging wiseacre,
For this song digs at such rulers; is, at bottom, a power caricature.
Feb 11, 2020
Feb 11, 2020 at 10:36 AM UTC
Sometimes I'd sit idle and chew on food for thought
Many would line up but sometimes it's all draught.
When slice of life seems little elusive
Sometimes cogent sometimes more allusive,
Happened and happening would oft put me in a quandary
Though hopes would then do a bit of emotional laundry.
Food for thought would still remain ungrounded
Uncharted, unchased, unlanded and unfounded.
Sometimes I'll muse on which way life is going
Are we really living or simply growing
In size, in form and also in years?
Grappling with highs and lows
Paddling along with weal and woes
Struggling between tears and cheers
Getting over the inevitably-destined blows
Ever chasing that's going far instead of close
Eventually assuring self that life thus flows.
Moments of desperation would divert me to myriad of literature
Where Hardy, Dickens, Whitman and Wordsworth's Nature
Ignite in me a faint flickering passion.
Pope's satire, Hardy's Wessex, Joyce's Dublin
Hamlet's inaction, Eliot's ideation
Byron's aggression, Dickens' compassion
Suffused with beauty and felicity of expression
Give me the impression that I've finally caught
Much coveted food for thought.
And thenceforth, no more foray into fleeting poetic oozings
Drop the pen and call the song my Meandering Musings.
Feb 11, 2020
Feb 11, 2020 at 9:30 AM UTC