the pandemic is endemic
that’s why it has its name
if you ignore all your medics
only you are to blame

for the deaths among your people
    the highest rate in the world
you sure made America great again
in disasters corruption unemployment
and mismanagement of a deadly crisis

out of misguided vanity
in times when simple sanity
would have sufficed
to save thousands of lives

do presidents get sentenced for mass ******?
if not
they SHOULD!!!

How weak is this heart......
Without any push or pull.....
Without any touches.....
It breaks....
by;
"Feelings and emotions"
And;
Unbearable pain and sorrow we faces.

the town i was born in wasn't big enough
to contain the vastness of my dreams
so i moved out
i spent hours upon hours on the bank of river yamuna
looking for a sign
completely forgetting that a dead river can't speak
i misunderstood its silence for an invitation
so i moved in
i traded my inner peace for smoke filled air
and my innocence for the facade of a happy woman
delhi, i spent years of my life trying to fit in
to make sure that i belong
then why do the stares on the streets
tell me that i don't
delhi why have you been so cruel to me
like a failed mother forcing her expectations on her daughter
no matter what i did
i was never good enough
every time i tried to speak
you just didn't want to hear
you're a city trying to hide its deafness from its people
delhi why are you so unfair?
you throw stones at the workers that build you
and bow down at the feet of your destroyers
maybe you're just as confused and tired as me
people have taken more from you than you could give
so you stand exhausted, defeated and short of breath
and i do the same
for both of us have failed miserably
i could never be your daughter
and you could never be my home

considering all the people
    we have lost throughout the years
          grandparents  parents  lovers uncles aunts
               if lucky   no children
    we know that our time to leave this world
    will come to pass eventually

         and yet
    as long as we feel full of life
    we prefer not to think of this too often
    borne by the vague conviction
    that the survivors of our family
    will bear the pain of loss
    as we did years ago
and live on

November smells like an
empty house,
like decaying dreams;
all pumpkin orange and
burnt sienna.
I search for you through
the ashes of roses.
My eyes are the color
of despair.
I can still taste you;
that last kiss, clover sweet.
And without you, the days
dawn gray
and lonely, like an orphan.