My Time... Poem by PARAMASIVAN ESAKKI

My Time...



CAN I FEEL
OR KISS?
WHEN I SROUT FROM A WOMB
WITH SMOKE-SCREEN ALL AROUND
THREAT OF H-BOMBS AND AIDS
THREW A RED CARPET TO AN ANSWER
THAT HINGES ON A NEEDLE OF QUESTION..
GOD IS A QUESTION.
AND ALSO
GOD IS AN ANSWER.
BUT I WONDER!
STILL THE SAME GOD
IS A QUAGMIRE OF
ARGUMENTS AND COUNTER-ARGUMENTS.
THE CHIPS AND THEIR
GOOGLE OF 'ON' AND 'OFF' PULSES
RULE A LOT.
BY A.I WE CAN CREATE
A PRAYER AND PRAYED.
SMILES FUSE IN TEARS.
THE BREADS ZOOM IN GRAPHICS OF
DEADLY BULLETS..
YES..
MY TIME DISAPPEARS.
THE YAWNING GAP WIDE OPEN
SHOWS A BLACK HOLE
BUT WITH NO COSMOLOGY!

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Thursday, March 30, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: social
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