Out of shell, fully hatched empty handed
propitiating goodness; robe pinkish spotless.
Black spots commence controlling the crown
directing body to crave for pleasures mean
senses turning to cranking franking machine
eyes, ogling at shapes of colour balloons
each dustbin desires for more boons
anger management untaught in schools
pulling legs & rugs becoming norms
couch potatoes celebrating loss of form
looking down upon others for self pride,
cues that likes of Alexander, The Great
too came out of shell empty handed
and went away; the same way, goes waste.
Kill kill kill. Be the hunter not the hunted.
Kill kill kill. The satanic senses within you.
Let flower of anti-desire bloom
spreading its fragrance granting boon,
"be a homely saint not for unworthy worldly gains".
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All right reserved/Tribhawan Kaul
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A strong work against the seven deadly sins, a sermon from the pulpit of poetry...compact and condensed diction with the game of words you played so substantially, see the lines: Kill kill kill. Be the hunter not the hunted. Kill kill kill. The satanic senses within you. Let flower of anti-desire bloom spreading its fragrance granting boon, “be a homely saint not for unworthy worldly gains”. regards