All of life is dead and the Sun has set.
Wet is the battlefield with blood after the brawl.
Stenches of death and sweat from both sides,
divides and drenches the trenches.
Sounds echo eerily quiet;
quite loud and profound.
All is for naught, as the vultures of the President descend.

The celadon leader smiles as he looks upon his ****** empire.
His vicious hunger is never fulfilled and his smaragdine iniquity smothers.
He wants, no, needs more; a never-sated, rapacious desire.
A broken country built on the backs and deaths of others;
evermore he wants and he wants evermore.
An incessant life drowned in cupidity and submerged in green,
but he is never jaded. He is a ***** emerald without valor.
His unclean desire for money recklessly expands as a deep ravine.

Avarice trumps the morals,
while he spreads a pestilential malignancy through the air.
The sacred blood of innocents binds together his laurels.
But the need for greed is exponential and blinds him to his error.
The mindless masses amass themselves at his mere feet,
but his mere feats only sum to immense ignorance and hate.
As he continues to stand for nothing but hypocrisy,
and his sycophants continue to vacuously prate.
It is a lesson for us all as a warning for our souls.
Covetousness is a viridian plague with no cure.
He corrupts spirits and gains unrighteous power from the polls.
But he is no leader, he’s only a false savior siphoning from the poor.

Your tresses are not smooth and silky
Lady..you have got grey hair!!
Your skin is breaking
There are lines on your forehead.
Why you are so skinny?
Don't you eat well...


You don't seem pristine,
Just look at your ravishing friend.

Yes...i do agree to the above delineation
But ...you don't know many facts.

That I was wide-awake uncountable nights
for my little ones,
Be it the school project or making that perfect attire for my princess's fancy dress
Or those sleepless nights with ear ache , fever or growing pains.

I have sometimes heard you talking about me from behind.
But have that golden heart to come and know my plight....
I would share with you the story of my pale visage
As  I have always loved my family more before self.

Ageing is a natural phenomena
Come to me I will guide you
Know that those lines and silver strands are signs of my eternal beauty,
But I can't blame your ignorance,as it is known by few.

Bina Mukherjee

I don't believe in love
Because it always
Has two parties
One has a story to tell and the other dies early

I don't believe in sentences
Because lovers can finish them for one another
When they feel like it
Or if they are alive

I don't believe in crime
If it is to be in love
Then I don't believe what I say
God tells me things, he's a little voice that tells me be kind

I don't listen to voices
When they tell me don't believe others
I just choose loneliness
I can spend counting the stars, thinking of her

So, believe in yourself
Love is the answer

The dance of ignorance marks our era,
The revelry howls into their ears,
But isn't opening a mind, only a bra.

Smoke is what we learned from Chimera,
Hangovers, falsehood, imbecility - unrestrained
Their most loyal friend, is dear nausea.

Drugs and **** brings them the aurora,
Living is nice, when we are unconscious.
In this reality, we are no Andromeda.

Advocacy of the unknown, is their chroma,
Defines their existence and ensures a legacy.
All is, a pseudo pride, and a fictitious corona.

Injustice, corruption ghosts within the area
Multilateral sins, unilateral sentence,
Flows into their logic like satisfying aria.

Bogus beliefs, to rise, and rule are a plethora,
Empty imposters control, destroy and mooch,
And what we see is an illusion of an aura.

Defiling the Quran, the bible, and the Torah,
With what a gold holder wishes and needs.
Whomever defies them, loses their aorta.

All will be fallen, America, Europe and Russia.
Hatred, arrogance, saturation of trivialities,
Is taken in, in grace, like the seduction of Delilah.

Concerts unify us, not our humanity, it's in coma,
Lack of fellowship, digs deeper into division.
If only books, not Lady gaga, were your holy diva.

The void will swallow us all, the diaspora,
The loss of our identity, truth, entity and ego.
Finding our roots, is our everlasting dilemma.

he thuds the loosely held floorboards
and smashes through the heavy pub door
he orders for a bottle instead of a glass
his coat drenched in filthy rain
his breathe smells like the rim of his bottle
and his shoes protruded a toe
wounds of glass from his last endeavors  
and needle marks not from the hospital
his crooked hands and messy hair puts anyone at a distance
once he was a gentlemen a father and a husband
once he had love and loved so many
once he had no need for needles
the bottle in his hand had only lukewarm milk
the bar tender was a stranger he'd never met
and his foot was only weary of legos misplaced
his shoes was stitched with a patch of a bunny
this man who was thrown
this man who was now a widower
and the smiles of her daughters trapped in his wallet
torn to shreds skinned to core
A blotted out smile on a blotted out photo
he now finds comfort in forgetfulness
to not remember the "how it used to be"
he has forgotten their graves and with it his promises
as their flowers wilt and perish
for a life a love an existence
is only meaningful if it has a memory

Dissatisfaction rising to crescendo
Insatiable desires' raging inferno
The more comfort we gain,
the more we lose the game
In horrid ignorance, we wallow

Ponder me, I'm the best poetic expression
In yonder world, my father had wrote.
Awful me, I'm the depth of calmness
In buoyant sky, the eye of storm shows.
Fearful me, I'm the lord of darkness
In dreadful night, residing beneath the light.
Cheerful me, I'm the light of lightness
In playful way, children adore to hug.
Joyful me, I'm the pleasure of a new born
In delightful might, when motherly angel nears.
Wishful me, I'm the wise of the wisest
In brightful day, like sun showering his grace.
Colourful me, I'm the blush of the rose
In beautiful hands, picked and worn in romance.
Tearful me, I'm the cry of the heaven
In cloudy day, drowning the earth of hope.
Blissful me, I'm the minute of the minutest
My faithful Lord, allowed to wander in this world.
Humble me, falling into the pit of ignorance
Boasting myself, for impressions in distant hearts.