Magic Poem by RAJAT GHOSH

The vicious victory is written
With the trumpet of siren,
The magician's flute of fear
Makes multitudes to mournful cheer!
The multitudes of rats racing river Lethe toward
Hey, can't you see their airy drives to death forward?

The wacky winged ants playing with 'Prometheusian' fire
The solitary soil witnesses with painful admire;
Bloody rain does fertile the putrid plain of dead land
None to bury the little Proserpine under the red sand;
It's the war of independence to bondage a nation
It's time to revive and regenerated a blissful horror session!

Mother is caged and the child is crying loud
The audience of the Globe witness the magician's proud!