The Busy Boggy Life’s Cancer By Ray Subrata - Poem by Subrata Ray
The tinged magnetic glow of faith and share,
Have almost departed us, for deeds un-fair.
Showy-showy, wordy –word, with airy fun,
Sucked away, life’s dignity, we have no fiery –shun.
The new generations, that are budding and growing,
Would, fight in black night, amidst day-light, nothing achieving.
I thousands traps, tricks, business –netting, dating, gratification, ,
With heritage-thought, and the mantle of ours, easy provocation.
I wish to cry, I wish to die, as why to have a life of a second day,
The debts that are burdening tax, I have no honest way to pay.
Isms pollution, cheating’s –promotion, the skilled and the novice’s war,
Intellects’ tyranny, wrist-men’s –red-eyes, and the Corporate’ fears.
The animals in the forest, fishes in the sea, and birds in the tree,
Save our baneful, and inhuman contrives, are healthy and free.
God gave us sturdy –hands, Greenfield, and honest faith to labor,
After our day’s farming with mates and friends, a peace-pillow –hours.
The cancer that we have, not in organ, but in intellect’s cell,
Cunning –perversion for winning the rat-race rings our knell.
Atomic-explosion, tower-blast, gulf’s war -the hellish spoils,
Have damned you the man, and now in omen’s fry you boil.
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