Source: Darkmoon_Art from Pixabay 

Ode to a Bud

That book is not for you,
Do not watch this ad,
Alice is waiting there for
You in Wander Land.

This soap’s for aged folk
Like your granny or so;
Stuart is calling you,
Play with him, just go.

Those dances are not decent,
Will not fit you at all –
|Better you play piano,
Or play with bat and ball.

I preserved your innocence
Building walls of moral;
You want to be an Astronaut;
I know, it’s just not oral.

I make you study hard,
And force you rush to classes
To get you earn reward
And bathe in pool of success.

On your way back home
In a heat-struck day
Your driver uncle snatched
Your childhood away…

I shielded you, my Tender,
From some Words and Sense
But can’t shield, O Dear,
From the very Occurrence.



It happens every day
It happens as usual.
Mother earth keeps mum
As if witnessing a ritual.
Police has stock pile
Of numerous cases to file,
To finally close as solved –
Resolved or unresolved.

Pen is after the story
Adventure brings some glory
Celebs are on speech.
As long it’s in news,
Get focus profuse –
Then just off the switch...

‘Rape’ has many synonyms
All are hackneyed though
The incidents are so live,
So consistent in flow!


Alternate Destination

The Sky is grey in shame.
Because celluloid steals it’s Blue
To capture the games of worms –
Reverse evolution from Human to Protozoa.

Venus’s gradually losing her shine
Due to filthy eject Masculine.

The Earth suffers infection all over her
Overcrowded body to pollute the Galaxy.
Humanity urges desperately for an
Alternate Destination with
Matriarchal Sanctity.


Indifference of Time

They were six, weren’t they?
No, the seventh one was an iron rod
that entered the pelvic, passed through the intestine
and emerged piercing the heart.

Were they four? No -
The fifth one was hard kick at face,
A thorough battering and
Fire that consumed your body.

They were ten? Twelve? One by one?
Not three at a time, God forbids?!
How many were they, how many?
Bloody, mutilated, combusted female corps –
How many were they?

Who were they?
A Dacoit, terrorist, minister, leader, religious preacher?
Husband, father-in-law, cousin, uncle, grandpa… father?!
Hejaz, veil clad, below teen decaying heaps of eves,
Who were they? Who?

What was your relationship with them?
Grandpa, granny, father.. ma –
Who performed your funeral at the
very moment of your birth?
Of course, your life could be a bad investment for them..

O, my poor girls, what should you wait for –
Justice in the next birth or for the last judgment?
God might ask for witness too!
Look, ‘benefit of doubt’s are laughing aloud here on the earth.
… No, I don’t find any sin on feticide;
It’s just an advance escape from these ‘who’ and ‘how many’ s.

…Come, all suffered souls,
Let me conceive you.
Let billions and trillions of female foetus
rest safely within my small n cozy womb.
…Come my beloveds! You no more need to be aborted by your parents
Who are alerted about your motherhood by ultra sound.
Come, all mothers, inside a mother.
I won’t bring you up to be used as fuels.

Nature’s cycle might be stopped. Let it be.
Nausea would come to an end some day.
And I shall be feeling your heart beat within myself.
No sibling rivalry, but only sisterhood would flourish inside me..

I’ll never bring you in this brutal distorted planet.
And wait for thousands and thousands years
until your fathers kiss your birth instead of penetrating.
I would go conceiving but won’t deliver,.. at least not now..!

Nature’s menstruation might stop…
Let the indifferent time be ashamed.


At Last

At last they have stopped,
Stopped their game of demise.
Now rowing seeds and watering
Plants over the ruins!
If creation is the urge
Why triggered catastrophe within?

By the time the game is over
The planet is a barren forever;
War-fatigued armed forces
Will be starving for peace;
But the galaxy, by the time, will be
Left with ashes of deceased…

.     .    .