The Evil Of Tradition Poem by Ramakrushna Sahu

All trends set have blocked the path
Have turned into a children game
Of fight for a broken doll
A masturbation of a futile pleasure
A wastage of work of words

We live something made out of life
That resembles it not
And call it a peak higher than real
We speak of the people
Though they are left far behind

A solid structure, a frame, a rule
A sticker are all a speed breaker
A tradition has a face backward
How can it tread a path forward?

Set not any trend
For there is no fixed path
Of a movement uncertain
All trends therefore be teared up
All traditions to be broken
To destroy is to create
To die is to take birth again