nimal dunuhinga Poems

This does not belongs to a King or a Superior.
An innumerable mass grave.
The inhumane just pretend as immaculate
those wolves who brought these innocents
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I do only a cry
in the lower pitch.
But the Violin
the greatest of all.
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When I see you were climbing a tree
I was really ashamed of myself
as sitting in an office the whole day
like a plump-pudding.
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Hey my Girlie! the nursery teacher
you taught me to spell love
and how to love smoothly
instead of nursery rhymes.
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Her mother is a midwife
and she is a nanny to her far relative.
He collects pumpkins hastily for the sunday fair.
Do you think a street vendor sees pleasant dreams?
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Every nut & bolt knows who suffered day & night to build this longest bridge?
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A gloomy evening at the bus stop
He saw his best friend’s wife was seated in the bus
And he just waved but could not get in.
The last bus came
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I have already forgotten my untidy homework and the kind beautiful spinster teacher definitely excuse me and waits,
That I am sure like the sunset.
Here I cannot concentrate and do fill in the blanks and the corrections properly.
I trim my sails so that the wind will catch them full and heads for home wards beyond the horizon.
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The bourgeoisie weary ordeal human skeletons entangle in the cast iron wheels.
The profiteer squeezes their testicle and ovum.
Crush their Marrow less bones, Wisdom and Courage et cetera.
The output of thousands major products as same as by-products (ammunition) send for the market?
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My brakes won't applicable to these mockery roads
As it's too old they say.
I keep my both hands on the steering wheel
But it goes to its own consent.
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