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The poetry is not a one those comes out as the air
One need to keep ten directions opens on all four sides
For poetry to come; Eyes, nose, ears all need to be open
Compassion in the heart; poetry is the vessel for the pain
Poetry is the place to shout louder silently

Mountain, forest, bloom, sun and moon also
Love, affair, hatred, loneliness, misery and happiness
Rebellion, slogan, solution's soul is the poetry
Poetry is a tool of war
And the weapon to stop the war

Poetry does not comes out as easy as the air
Be ready for poetry, sit back relax and wait
All the day and night
Some times with the patience of motherhood
For Nine months or few more days
No one never seen a ghost
We believed, there none
even now we cannot see
Just watching mortality of human race
And humanity in crowd

Not to worry about

Mars is ready for mass
Or mankind is eager
To be alive there as the aliens
or living ghost
our room heater now
keeps me warmth on winter nights
after my wife leaves
but I know she needs it more
with her at underground grave
Zero is zero
And even not a zero
Later than figure
Peeps from a railway carriage casement, our land passes by
as a movie in short of a moving life, that spending
anywhere anyhow just to reach own destination,
unknown. Few fences of bamboo, village ponds, bathing mass
and a long strip of a lean river as a silver band
passengers are dreaming a better end, peaceful
some children are drawing life in their schools
love lost dream of day
now they comes at night,  foggy
she waves hand to bye
here, there everywhere
rain drops tree tops, this morning
birds stops wandering

cloud roars some shouts more
those are wet, yet raining out
morning lasts longer
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