Mortal Blues Poem by Satish Verma
Mortal Blues
That satanic streak
of tireless undressing
of a hapless monarch.
Wings were gone. Cannot fly
across the tree
of hypocricy.
A footmat for the suicidal jump
from the elegant hierarchy
to grainy lies.
Why are you turning ungreen?
You will dig up the temple
without god?
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5/6/2024 10:09:46 AM # 1.0.0.1119
