In The Postmodern World Poem by gopikrishnan narayanan

In Postmodern world
My son
Made a whistle
Out of a palm leaf.
Not only that,
He also blew on it
And there was sound-
That same old voice!

The wonder doesn't end there
He infact tore it apart
Like a boy
Living in a pre-modern world!

How old these,
Made new thus
How new these,
Made old thus,
These times
Swing us
In the swing.
Seen from there
Even Jesus
Swings
Un-crucifiable.

Like a teeth
Wobbling like human love.