The chemistry of hate
changes in a thorn’s shade.
I start digging out the past
for a blind sun,
for a qualified rejection.
He was stranded in a death-row:
the civilians were killed.
Was a meditating Buddha with
a bomb, doing his routine job
of annihilation?
I am surprised of a god walking
in the graveyard to find his own
son lying asunder six feet deep
below the burden of kisses from
the vanishing mankind.
Satish Verma
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: April 14th, 2011 21:57
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 13
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.