Humanity is ravished a thousand times
And bludgeoned to death at the altar in a sacred place.
Your soul is tortured and torn into pieces
While your half conscious body shrieked at its loudest.

A poppy in your grave, growing in betwixt your legs,
Now you have a thousand stars in your limbs,
In your white bone a lustrous moon stone;
A glowing meteor in your delicate heart,
In your rising and falling ***** an asteroid;
A rushing celestial comet in your cold blue veins;
Atmosphere  in your  single tender taken soft breath.

Come return unto us like a burning fire
Accompanying the cosmic ire
To cleanse us of hideous evils;
To cleanse the earth of those incubus devils.

How small we are, yet how big
Our graves that we dig.

In a hut or room, cottage or house,
Are we not laboratory mouse
In the hands of Human Almighty
Who builds village, town or city,
District, state or country?
Are we really folks gentry
Ruling subcontinent, continent?
Are we not the self proclaimed incumbent

Of this planet earth?

Solar system, stars, nebula, cosmos
And then?

Nothingness.

Information is now currency,
Nuclear warheads and biological weapons,
Another man-made big bang on earth;
No room, no house, no city,
No hut, no cottage, no village.
Another hundred years or may be less
To turn the cradle of civilization into a deathbed.

O! Oppenheimer what have you done!

He doesn’t know why he did that,
He doesn’t know why he stabbed
The bluebird in his rib cage (1)
And let it pour crimson regret. (2)
He doesn’t know how he concealed
The congealed rubies within
And wore a borrowed smile
When his soul screamed, (3)
When that love struggled to strangle
With its choppy fingers (4)
And gave ghastly nightmares
Even in broad and bright daylight
And turned his mind
Into a hopeless battlefield
Soaked with tincture of iodine,
Where like a merciless enemy
He fought against his own self,
Where like a fatally wounded warrior
Tired of ceaseless fight
He craved for eternal sleep.
He doesn’t know why somewhere
A butterfly flapped its wings; (5)
He doesn’t know why he did that,
He doesn’t know why he laid his eyes on
Cecilia.

Life is like a twelve-pound cannonball,
Hurled at me at the age of twenty-one
After the propitious graduation is done;
A darkling abyss of despair and a free-fall.

Life is like a half-cocked single-action gun;
One bullet in cylinder and Russian Roulette.
Everything around seemed grey and dead
When the search for employment had begun.

Life is like hooves of trotting horse in turmoil
Impinging deep grooves upon my soul soil
When the neighbour inquires and informs,
"Have you this time filled up group d forms?"

Life is like a hand holding a dagger in the air;
Twisting it deeper in my chest when I overhear
A domineering well-wisher mocks my failure,
"Hah! He made tufts plucking his ***** hair"


Now
Climbing
On my back,
Alack! Sisyphus,
Life is like a mountain
Of lidless responsibilities
And of heaping impossibilities;
A barren land and a dried fountain,
Life in front of me is like a beautiful ape
With a grotesque face laughing at me agape.

Four men from the break of dawn
With axe, hacksaw and *****,
Back and forth swaying their head,
And with their mighty brawn
Were hacking down a giant factory
That took small space on earth
Nurtured by air, water, soil from its birth,
Finally it was razed with great victory.
It was a factory which produced oxygen
That could not be gauged by men.
It provided food and shelter
To many creatures without ever to falter.
Without asking for anyone's labour
To them it did unconditional favour.

After a few days came there many men
To build another giant factory again.
They with great vigour cleared the sod
Built a factory with bricks and iron rod.
It was a factory that took over large area,
Workers feared diseases in their trachea
For it ceaselessly vomited black smoke;
By its noise neighbours to their horror awoke.