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