Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi


The Lost Freedom! - Poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi

Darkness of grief left to ferment,
Can drink as the ale for excitement,
Quietness of night can last for few hours,
The bright sorrow returns to haunt and cleaver.

Man is made of regrets, as his happiness,
Makes him thrilled for a short while, cheerfulness,
A glorious handy facial mask to hide original,
Feel of gloom, hatred, distress and torment.

Let us wear this mask when we are entitled to be happy,
All our liberties are taken care as the separation of plasma tax,
We are always dry as the bone marrow, still vital to economy,
Living in glum is far better than living in the slum.

Once in a while, when I am tired of this pretense,
I would remove it boldly to cry for the lost freedom.


Comments about The Lost Freedom! by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi

  • Diane Hine (1/22/2013 7:55:00 AM)


    Thanks for the explanation. A good analogy and thought-provoking as your poems always are. (Report) Reply

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  • (1/20/2013 10:20:00 PM)


    Our blood is made up of a liquid portion and a cellular portion. The cellular portion contains white blood cells that fight infection, red blood cells that carry oxygen, and platelets that aid clotting.
    Plasma is the liquid portion of our blood. It has a number of vital functions in bleeding and infection control. It contains proteins and antibodies, which are produced by the immune system to fight diseases.
    When more or less one third of our income is collected as the income tax, we pay various indirect taxes, (plasma tax) while we buy any products in the markets, as the profit is only concern to any business. The health care and the welfare of the citizens are taken care of, utilizing and investing the money collected as the taxes.
    We, the ordinary citizens and businessmen are compared to the bone marrow, as it is vital for the body of nation to function healthily.
    The only difference between the people who live as the lower and lower middle income group in the developed nations and the people who live in the slums of developing nation is, the comfort, other than this both of them have the same mindset of fear, instilled in their hearts, so I write it is better to live in the comfortable darkness than to live in the slums.
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Poem Submitted: Saturday, January 19, 2013



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