New Generation
One’s existence was threatened
by the overseeing iguana like crested disguise.
Repressive, explosive eyes. You
are trapped in words beneath bewitching
smile. The ‘V’ sign for violence
becomes more obvious. That hits
you in face.
The eastern wind is blowing. Cold and chilly.
An odyssey of massacre and blood bath.
The mayhem of democratic jam. Fingers
crossed, we wait for a miracle to happen.
Someone turns back the tide and sharp knives
are taken out from the flesh. A diminutive man
wears giant shoes, prepares for a long jump.
Donor of the egg was unknown
surrogate mother was on price.
SATISH VERMA
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