Not Patanoiac Glide... Poem by PARTHA SARATHI PAUL

I see the world turning abruptly green.
Spark the flames from their exposed infernos.
I feel the sharp blade under their sugar-coated praise.
They rather gift me potassium cyanide.
I should die long before the kindred faces look ugly!

All sinister eyes gloat at my drooping figure.
They lurk to bite me off into million pieces.
I am wary of all amity turning hostility and the battle.
No. I am geared up to cope with each of the devils.
Yes. I`ll keep to the crusade against the strippers.

They are brutally stripping the divine robe of poetry.
They are calling their arbitrary whim unique creativity.