The Polity Today

The Polity Today…

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Stifled and Suffocated Under Occupation,
Confined to a Life of Brazen Act of Annexation,
Subjected to a Toxicity by the Rest of the Confederacy,
Paying the Price for Some Cooked and Some Raw Conspiracy.

Counting Days and nights Cutoff from the Near and Dear Ones,
By the apathy and Atrophy of the Power that Runs,
Into a Corner and Forced Underground,
By the Despicable Vulgarity and Obscenity of the Dictatorial Sound.

Who’d Turn a Messiah to the Multiplying Affliction,
To Arrest the Basic Arithmetic of Division by Constriction,
To a Unity Imposed by Self-Rule and Determination,
By a Despot Shambolic and Ostentatious in Bringing Forth Malediction.

We are People With Indomitable Rights,
Sacrificed at the Altar of Rituals and Rites,
Chanted on by a Population that doesn’t seem to Care,
Legitimizing the Deeds of the Fundamentalists’ as an Internal Affair.

I, the Citizen, or You, the Citizen

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Please cry for me India…
I, the citizen have lost my rights to be me,
I, the citizen have ceased to be,
I, the citizen have been stripped, raped, and burnt alive,
I, the citizen have been subject to justice denied,
I, the citizen have been alienated,
I, the citizen have been forcibly occupied,
I, the citizen have been living in constant fear,
I, the citizen have been subject to repeated smear,
I, the citizen have lost my right to express,
I, the citizen have my autonomy to suppress,
I, the citizen have my society divided,
I, the citizen have my politics lopsided,
I, the citizen are what you cast(e) me,
I, the citizen are what you class me,
Enough of this I, the citizen, for I shan’t be, what you prove me to be.
You, the citizen carve your own story,
You, the citizen, toy with my history,
You, the citizen decide what’s right,
You, the citizen have lost all foresight,
You, the citizen stifle my being,
You, the citizen compel me to fleeing,
You, the citizen regulate me with force,
You, the citizen admit, everything’s normal of course,
You, the citizen deny me free air,
You, the citizen snatch what’s my fair share,
You, the citizen dictate,
You, the citizen choose what’s my intimate,
You, the citizen force upon me your religion,
You, the citizen submit me to an unseen region,
Enough of this You, the Citizen, for WE the PEOPLE,
Will rise to dismantle,
What is yours to impose,
Won’t rest until you are deposed…

An Ode to a Silent Communicator…

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With the setting and rising of the moon and the sun,
Shuffling back and forth in the derelict zone,
Mired in temporary infatuation and still on the run,
Waiting idly for the overwhelming attachment of what we don’t own.

Caught between the manic, the desirous and the anticipatory,
Playing by the gamble of this celestial cyclicity,
Stupefied in a hesitant, yet revelatory anxiety of the reconciliatory,
Calling upon to perpetually chasing along this periodicity.

Woken up to a reality of the ill-spraying wind,
To the lives torn asunder, and left to adrift,
Into the great chasm and the abyss of the chagrined,
Against the score of a deep silence, and the lyrically thrift…

How Long Do I?

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How long do I smile through the tears
How long do I fake there are no fears
How long do I put my insecurities to sleep
How long do I lock away the hurt that’s so deep…
How long do I write the ledger of tragedy
How long do I hide what’s written under comedy
How long do I regret what’s forgotten
How long do I not regret what’s forgiven
How long do I look for stars in daylight
How long do I long for sun at midnight
How long do I curse my stars
How long do I hold them the cause of my scars
How long do I mourn
All along in this state of being forlorn…

The Jukebox…

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The last coin found its way through the slot. the years wore strained and the ears that were trained to the notes in synchronized harmony. This time, however, nothing of the harmonic was sounded, nothing but silence pierced through the curtains, out in the moonless air, dissipated and buried in the dead souls of the city retiring endlessly from the chores for a living. The Jukebox stared at me blankly as the last of its mechanical life escaped as I sat looking into the void and crying silently….

An Unfinished Story…

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No murmur ever rose from the bed of River of Silence that flowed eternally with a hushing influence over it’s pearly pebbles that we loved to gaze together far down within its bosom into a most contented pledge of till death do us part, until…..

And as the years grew heavily on my existence, I could no longer dwell in the valley of the River of Silence with a shadow palling over my mind of the life no more accompanying me, of the silence of togetherness no longer a quietude in solemnity, of the zephyr no longer dallying the tree that bore witness, and of glory long ago transformed into vain glory…