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It is full of sneak peaks
it is full of snow storms
It is full of sow tooth
it is full of snap deals
it is full of silk routes
An empire of market mixes
Swallows nations in a day or two
Not a willow left out in the lurch
What is left is a peripheral nation
That lives on the peripheries of profit and losses
That thrives in the breath of mergers and balance sheets
A nation of fists and walls and zig zag alleys
A nation that breeds suspects
Believes in preying on the breath of its people
A prism that breeds darkness
Betrays the light of its knowledge
A polity that mocks at the press
is a pure play of chairs and mikes
An empire that demands blood vessels
Is playing apocalypse with its peripheries
You define a nation, empire, press, polity, people
All in a whisper of time and glorious chorus
Something is missing, don’t you see?
A mask that bemoans for orphans
Never existed in this world of wars
It is growing left and right in my garden
A mystery that lies to the life itself
Never existed in the towers of corpses
Now it is blooming in my poems
A language is dead in its pragmatics
It is ebullient in the dictionary of the pompous
A faith that crumbles like a scaffold
Is born in the demise of the prophet
A nerve that connects life to death
A needle that feeds hungry pangs
You may call it a corporate of rates and interests
I may see it as an alley of corpses and columns
Everyone expects a big beast to be born in the alley
Irrespective of all the verbs and nouns
Irrespective of all the hunger and thirst
We are united as thieves, merchants and brand ambassadors
Let us save our words at least, when doors desire the darkness