Theme: Life

With Licorice

Throw yourself on a time bomb 
howling, breaking the words, 
twisting the letters, reciting a prayer 
after the rise of a monomania in the 
face of mankind. 

I am becoming poorer everyday 
by grace of filth all around. Cannot hear 
myself now in the marching band of curses 
and abuse; a scion hides a fawn from 
the eyes of wild bulls. 

A hierarchy of buried skeletons, spineless 
dinosaurs lying under the shadows of technicolor 
maps and letting freeze the time. The music 
was lapped by passersby. The world 
was moving in circles.


More By  :  Satish Verma

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