Thursday, February 23, 2012


A Poem which needs slow careful reading. The poem speaks about the unequality all around and the absurdity of life.Please leave your comments. I am not a great poet and hence the titile…in case you did not like what you can very easlily say that this is from a Anonymuncle.

The sciolist on the run for his share of fame,
Burdened Ragpickers in the street;
Their role in the society never counted,
Abligurition-taking away their share of life, they bleed.
Death now mounted.

Whose life we lead? Anyway,
I mock mine every day,
For the well beings are well fed;
These autodeist Well-fed in their glorious bed,
Poor’s Perennial fight to live against welcoming death.

Today the mall sells meats in grams;
Hardworking labors paid only alms;
The hands that packed those pieces are worthless,
Take mine to those slums,
Their drapetomania and those guns?

Let the weather decide the rain,
Let your deeds surpasses all pain;
Let the moon decides the night,
And your journey, the ride,
Let our children take some pride.

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