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kiran goswami Aug 16
When the tale of the kite wraps itself around your neck,
And yet continues to fly, freely
You should now know that freedom to one comes at a cost to the other.

But you must wonder, as Jupiter and Zeus watch this storm,
that leaves nothing more than dust in their eyes;
It's funny how kites are a symbol of freedom when they are actually tied to a glass-coated cotton string.
The same cotton, that another boy who looks directly into your eyes could have worn.
It's funny how when one side of the coin is painted in platinum
and the other side struggles to know whether it's still a coin with value as it is being corroded.
Yes, they were one coin. Once.

The tulip blooms fade before the foliage dies,
every flower that dies is not reborn
But on the land it does, is.
When the flower is no more,
the green stem still remains.

But did the flower die from the wasp
that stung its nectar and perhaps even the pollen
or did it die from the feet that stepped upon
because they were inside the duststorm that disallows them to look at the ground.

Do all flowers that die are reborn?
How many flowers can one wasp even sting?
How many times can you stomp over one flower until it has no petals but only your footprints?

As you wonder,
The tail of the kite has been detached from its throne,
You look, as you wonder, if this is freedom or that was.

And another Hassan chases it yet again.
I respect your emotion,
I respect your notion,
I respect your beliefs,
According to your definition.

It's a beautiful sentiment
Of oneself for its nation.
You can't expect the same,
As per your definition.

For some it's their pride,
For some it's their confidence,
For some it's their arrogance,
But for me, it's a feeling of humanity without boundaries!

Nationalism is to see all equal,
Nationalism is to fight against prejudices ,
Nationalism is to fight against discriminations,
Nationalism is to be united,
Nationalism is to make and keep sovereignty.

Nationalism is beyond one's explanation,
Nationalism is beyond one's thoughts,
Nationalism is beyond one's beliefs,
But, is nationalism above or beyond  humanity?

You must have the feeling of nationalism,
You must support your nationality,
But You must stay away from extremism,
To support the mankind and humanity.

Nothing is above than humanism,
Nothing is above than mankind,
Nothing is above than humanity,
Neither our nationalism nor our nationality!
In today's world... we see a lot of extremists spreading hate against other's religion, ideologies and all... And that too in the name of nationalism... They are tagging themselves as a nationalist and others as anti-national... Who are against their Ideologies... And the irony is this... That the elected government is also supporting them... It's hard to believe but it's reality that most governments of world are acting today as the elected dictator of that nation!
Whether it's other nations or mine INDIA ... The ugly truth of INDIA🇮🇳 (the world's largest democracy) is this... That it is losing its Democratic values at a very fast pace... And it might be possible that in coming days the world's largest democracy will remain only on the pages...
Dear comrade,
Maybe you are achieving medals for your victory
but, actually you are achieving our hearts for your bravery...
A big salute to all comrades, serving for their country.
No matter the nation,they costs their lives to protect it...
Words' Worth Jan 26
No more vibrant bazaars with vegetables lined across carts
No more shouts of vendors piqued with anticipation for the day's sell
No more selling of fruits and poultry to the hordes of families lining near a mandi
I must be on the wrong street, my memory fails me.
No more spices being sold for a day of solace from the midnight cries of a mewling child?
No more rabble of vendors that belong on fields, away from home and from their wives?
Is this even Delhi?
Oh! Look a tricolor map on a desolate stretch of empty push-carts
Why does that torn flag that unites us all hang low in humility?
Where are all the people of the city?
Is that my India putting on a broken disguise?
The only thing holding me together is my dignity
This poem is my take on the Delhi protests.
Pasquino Jan 13
though just a single name you bear,
you’re faceless with a thousand eyes–
you’re lovers of a shameless prayer
and blameless of a thousand lies,

you will never be aware
that I not plot against your name
and in grand communion swear
dissent from sad and hope-sparse place.

And, if I’m not to leave these shores,
I’ll break and burn your flag
with horrid mortal cry–
yours dies with mine!
pat v Aug 2020
Ang nakaupong tiwali—
siya ang binoto ng masa.
Sa manggas ng kanyang barong,
panganib ng maralita

May kinang ang kan’yang ngiti
mapungay ang mga mata
Sa bawat pangakong lahad
ay pagsibol ng pag-asa.

Pag-asa na tayo'y ligtas
ay naging katakot-takot.
Para raw sa Inang Bayan,
peligro na nakabalot.

Ang salitang bulaklakin
ay daglian ding nalanta
kapalit ang pagtungayaw,
at banta ng direktiba.

Hindi natin inasahan—
bahid ng dugo sa daan.
Mga kamay, nahugasan
ngunit hindi ang lansangan.

Sa lapida nakaukit
ngalan ng mga biktima.
Sunod kayang tatahimik
ang silang may pinupuna?

Hapis ng inang nawalan,
“Crispin, Basilio, anak ko,”
oyayi ng Inang Bayan.
“Pasismo! Peligro rito!”
I believe in a past
that never existed.
Always willing to tell
others they should
be sad they missed it.
For what never lasts
can always be reimagined,
engineered ad-hock.
For me, the door to
the past is always wide open.
But, the one to the future
I cannot unlock.

so please don't give me the key
I don't wanna see beyond
what went before.

I believe in a moment
of imagined purity.
To close my eyes
on the acts of cruelty,
that lead to this modernity.
Only seeing the light that
concealed the night,
and the chains of *******.
For the good,
that is all I see.
Because I need to see
that good in me.

so please don't give me the key
I don't wanna see beyond
what went before.
Dominique May 2020
i enjoy england

with its little houses
hips brushing, faces smushed
together to revel in quaint rumour
among gentrified lilies and pink
lady apples that blush in the summer

its walkways and alleys
dribbles of soft lamplight guiding
the drunkard, moth-brained and ill
with silk threads to a blind spot
of amber where muck can be spilled

the people on transport
with their airy talk, their mindless
silence, heads lolling idly on
windows, eyes crumpling like napkins
against the leaking crumbs of warm scone sun

pretty little England
where exploitation is vintage
and runs like rosé
down the dusty store windows

here we are free to stumble
down streets with sweat
in our hair and manic karaoke
reverberating off the walls
glee drinking is government protected

I'm quite in love with england,
this field of dew and white roses
fed by gore and sweet tradition
where fresh-faced, sunny children play.
fray narte Apr 2020
my heart only knows rage
growing, crawling like wildfire
to which my bones will collapse like lilac twigs;

then again, honey,
we do not burn down with the fire — we become it,
should we fall like witches condemned.

then again, honey,
they do not burn; the fire knows its mistress' touch
and today, we have inherited
all the anger, all the wrath, all the names of the men
she held onto for centuries in her palms.

today, she will avenge
all her sisters lynched and effaced
all her brothers starved and gunned
by the very pigs who swore to protect
and the fire will
creep, engulf, and spread,
torching their money and their abusive hands —
their lying tongues and iron fists
burning in cauldrons
they will burn us in,
and the smoke will rise to the heavens
until all that's left are ashes
from where no cruel man will rise.
and the smoke will rise to the heavens
until justice,
like a goddess,
emerges from a foam of embers.

and the smoke will slowly lift —
so will this anger.
so will this wrath.

and it's the sun itself that awakes
to the promise of a new day.
Salma Mar 2020
If I could
I would let some people go, convince them I'm contagious and that I'm no good,
Some other people, I will walk out on, call them to meet,
but don't show up
If I could
I would paint my face *****, erasing my features, resembling a liar or a beggar.
I would then walk about invisible. I would cry a lot, everywhere unbothered.
Next, I would walk between borders, crossing lines, entering and exiting territories.
I would do that,
If I could
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