DEATH IS ON THE STREETS

DEATH IS ON THE STREETS


Death is on the streets 
and life is offbeat
Are we too afraid to die 
or are we too afraid to simply end our lives ?
The ghosts of our physicalities ,
are dancing on the war cliffs of duality
The basement of my boredom ,
is filled with rotten thoughts of causality
I wish life would be on streets 
and death would be unseen…
but War is on the streets
And war is on the television
And now it has crept into our devices , on repeat 
 and peace is only hanged in the poems of tree
Like it's dead
The doctors are monitoring peace
And the verdict is, 
Sublime perishing and chronic extremis... 


I guess we are done reading poetries, or having any passions 
As we are too occupied fighting wars , on internet, a diatribe on compassion
I wish I could make a career out of war 
But I would be Catcalled uncivilized for that
And I would be forced to make a career out of peace, 
out of my poetries , out of proses, till I rub society's noses 
And then I would be begging on the streets, in stone cold frost 
 with my vernaculars having no food to eat 
poetries are thrown in the sea
poets are in the oceans of abyss
war is in the home and hearth now
no bread on the table , 
all hurt in the hands of fable 

 
Death is on the streets
 and dying is on the Internet
Life is lived on weed
And living is postponed in lucid dreams
war has reached to heads now , 
empathy has fallen out of our pockets
death prided off , with head held high for ideologies
I guess everything would pay off ,
when all of us would die,
same race, same color , same gender , same jibe 
and no different human would be left to die 
except us , what a mirth , what a misery !


Death used to be on the streets 
and life is hanging on the dead trees
On the necks of deads poets , indeed
Till all of them died out of poverty 
death is now present in every body 
Everybody is a pessimist now
and life is sold at a price 
 that only few of us can afford to embody
What a tragedy, what a good relief! 


Death used to be on the streets
Now it is seen hanging on the rotten pieces of poetries 
Life used to hang on the dead trees
Now it has lost even lost hope of humanity
Death used to be on streets
Now it is on street drains and potholes
Everyone is dead now 
Life is a threat now
Death is a dream ( as everybody is already dead) 
Streets are empty . ... 

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