Rob the poor to feed the rich

Disarm those unarmed,

Do whatever it takes to ensure

Your interests aren’t unharmed.

Make mountains out of molehills

And hullabaloos over nothing,

Listen to your crackling voice

And, tell the Nightingale it can’t sing.

So much for other people, folks

The sad state of the world,

Withering flowers everywhere

Stones and missiles hurled.

Blindfold the ones who can see

Muffle the voices that speak,

Better, birds than Man

Can’t do much with a beak.

Not an inch of space anywhere

Freedom no longer a right,

Darwin it was who said long ago

This jungle is for those with might.

(The author is a prolific poet who has over 30 poetry books to his credit. He can be reached at ashoksawhny06@gmail.com/ www.ashoksawhny.com)