Sunday, February 15, 2009


A rouge, a petty gangster, with limited vision hogs headlines,
basking in the glory of attention
with fangs that thirst for POWER.
The law of the land pursuing down on him
as a feather tickling his armpits.

Shedding innocent blood to stain a muddy path
or the black tarred road
binds fundamentalists across religions,
for to them its akin to breaking a pumpkin on the way side
or staining the walls with the saliva of paan.
These wild animals masquerading as humans
derive strength from the thick redness of life and death.

Then the petit and suave corporate entertainer
bites on the strawberry of Wimbledon
rubbing shoulders, rolling his tongue
reveling in the waterfall of WEALTH.
The sophistication of his deeds
far exceeds the cruelty of the former.

He deftly dilutes his hard drink
with the milk of social responsibility
Holds his glass of celebration for the world to see.
As he gets his high diluting
the blood and toil of starry eyed,
innocent educated competent breed.

His coffee table is dotted by the journals of pink
His misdeeds have come to an end
His balance sheet is blood red
Now pink slips stare at the toiled faces
But there is no blood left to boil
not even to redden their eyes.

While the former deserves chaddies of pink
The later deserves many that stinks

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