poetry of resistence

Those who yell at me

Those who yell at me

stars from the long red strips, heavy doctrines

blues for a few ain’t better, further

who goes where I don’t much care

roads everywhere going haywire

who knows which is the one?

Dipping intensely in the machinery of life

appetite for pride followed by outrageous cry from its jolts

fading milestones one by one by the dust of its rear

brown high-way on top gear

Crazy nights on snow, anarchy with cappuccino

What’s going on man I don’t know

Who knows? Who cares?

Those who yell at me I stare!

A treacher from that corridor, life spent on rigged dog-eared pages

surviving for ages

The bell that rings so often, birds in a golden cage

black coat across the table, swerved eyebrows

Holy trinity and sages from the romantic folklore

the giant glass boxes thriving to shine till vanished

Fascist with a midnight wish

magnetic eyes of weary exorcists on big city streets

feast of miracles in the world of craving more than hunger

those who yell at me I stare!

I murmur all thieves are not a thief

spared are the sons of anarchist rest of a bitch

Wolf fight in a broad day light

one’s death ensures other’s win

each time you spill I write, one after another

I refuse to go together for the pride before a fall

I want peace, not in a piece of paper on which I piss

trapped in a cusp of hope and despair

Those who yell at me I stare!

by Sourav [India]
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> more poems by the same author can be found here