Half-buried in a mud pit,
a polluter bares all, body and soul.
Hands bound, ready to be stoned
to death.
A god was going to kill a god.
A dense judgement of planet green
of an unreliable sun
scribbling a code of conduct.
My god, I will go insane.
Save my woods I say. How can
be the adam was so naked running
in a race gene altered?
My arthritic fingers again lift
a mansion of gold leaves, dissolving
the sky.
Satish Verma
Satish Verma
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: December 9th, 2011 22:15
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 9
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.