Bleeding Me Poem by Neela Nath Das

Turn my pages....
1,2,3,4.........
you will see
the words bathing
under the shower
of strife and pain,
are motionless,
neither move, nor walk.
Bleeding me
can not sing anymore!
How can a defeated
soul rise above
and soar?
Smile and smile more.
As if the photographer
on the sea-shore
encourages to
put more smile
on my sodden lips,
so that the snap-shot
turns up good
to befit the mirth around.
**********^^^^**************
I was a revolutionary,
protested against
the oddities of life.
Now, I have opened
my fist and bleed!
In agony my cells
want to burst.
but, all melts
in vain-vanity.
This is the age of Vulture!
The Scavengers are
looking down, down
to keep watch on
the moment of vacuum.
Ah! none can win over
the swift, adamant
cunning creatures!
The representatives
of the decadence,
inevitable and of course
irresistible!