DEATH IS ON THE STREETS

DEATH IS ON THE STREETS

Death is on the streets 

and life is on the work desks

Are we too afraid to die 

or are we too afraid to live?

The ghosts of our physicalities ,

are dancing on the war cliffs

The basement of my boredom ,

is filled with rotten thoughts now

I wish life would be on streets 

and death would be unseen…

but War is on the streets

 and peace only hanged in the poems of tree

I guess we are too afraid to read poetries now

As we have started practicing wars somehow

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

And then I would be begging on the streets

 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 

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 , 

and no different human would be left to die 

except us , what a mirth , what a misery !

death used to be in the streets 

and life is hanging on the dead tree

death is now present in every body 

and life is sold on a price,

 that only few of us can afford to embody …