Binu Mathew

In childhood,
Father built a bronze cage,
Siblings turned it silver in teenage,
Later, spouse gifted,
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It's staunch belief, dear lad, to kill,
‘Branded' enemies, to carry out His will,
For reasons, beyond our comprehension,
As if the world in need of redemption.
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The world's fine when media silent!
Cos, they can make zones, witnessing violent,
Clashes, paradise of peace, or bring,
Chaos in calm meadows with dramatic swing!
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War's a game, designed by devils born in sin,
Where the two warring factions rarely win;
But leaders who scratch each other's' back,
Gain mutual benefit and the firms that back!
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If man's mortal and life's uncertain, why to amass wealth,
In disproportions, for distant descendants to be prodigal,
And build multi-storied mansions, when millions live in filth,
With no space to put their corporeal frame for desires, conjugal!
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The World, in grief, hangs its head in shame,
As shameless leaders still hang out for fame,
At the plight of penniless people perishing,
On rails n roads, the death corridors, crashing!
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Massive rocks can't impede,
Nor fallen trees create blockage,
To the gushing flow of a love spring,
That heads to join a thirsty river!
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In unison, all pledged,
Evil in the neighbourhood,
Be eliminated, while,
Neighbours echoed the same!
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Wish I were a flower on the wreath placed on your bosom,
To decay with your mortal remains, a paragon of virtue,
To be one under earth, and later in heaven be awesome,
Soulmates, to enjoy all pleasures of life you did eschew!
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All objects and organs are meant for use in time,
Not for museums, to be showcased in rust and dust.
So are pleasures of flesh and blood in prime,
To feed, breed and quench thirst for love and lust!
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Solitude is an island in distance,
Full of untapped resources.
It is a fertile land,
Where critical thinking sprouts.
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When freedom fettered,
Creativity crushed,
Self-image shattered,
And voice denied,
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In shadows, cast by faith,
The blindfolded march,
Missing all beauty around!
Faith's a dish, cooked in,
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Like a crown of glory and the nation's pride you look there!
Pierced into the sky, the head invisible to men on earth,
The last epitome of man's pride on earth, I fear!
Could be the next target of His eternal wrath.
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An insane, sad, sullen and serious, stormed,
Sandy Hook, caught by an evil spirit, armed,
With multiple rifles and went on rampage,
Slaughtering a score of angels to subside his rage.
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Lured by showers of promises, the gullible Indian youth fell victim to the mastery,
Of tricks played by a crony conjurer whose credentials are shrouded in mystery!
His armory of anarchist campaign loaded with ‘Geobbelsian lies' could out- trick,
The masses, aided by agents of crony capitalism and previous win, a hat-trick!
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This recession, not my creation nor my father’s
Like a pandemic that hit the world with great magnitude,
And turned millions in shaky firms to good actors
Lest they be one of the unfortunate multitude.
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Joined I, the millions to send across your fame,
And proudly shared the posts with the claim,
That, you're the world's most learned leader,
Placed on the top rung of the political ladder.
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I dreamt thee O Lord! A figure, filthy n' ferocious,
Like a demon! Far-fetched yet frightened to narrate,
Incorrigibly frivolous in action, idle n' vicious,
Contrary to my grandma's narration, extremely irate!
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Failure's not always your fault,
Could be denial of justice that halt,
You in tracks, or absence of fairness,
Hallmark of corrupt regime's callousness!
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