A vigil for scrolls:
who writes the history now?
Actors are barbaric now –
playing the malicious music of
rebirth.
There is no threat now from intimate-
bombers.
Be drunk on my breast –
in lunar landscape, wearing no shoes.
Buddha has lost his libido.
Can you fix the bed of black
roses?
A sick mind now writes-
a transgender prose.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline)
- Published: December 2nd, 2015 22:36
- Category: Nature
- Views: 20
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.