The Modern Men

How can I call them modern men? They are still barbaric, use weapons in lieu of words of wisdom. From the musket to the missile, they have advanced in the technology of massacre. New widows and orphans are manufactured and preserved in misery. How can I call them educated? Their thoughts are still bent like the curved pines in the Crooked Forest. Being short-circuited, their minds are not illuminated. There are stubborn stains of caste, creed, and color in their subconscious. Education remains on the surface of their brains as the rain drops on a banana leaf. How can I call them intelligent? All other animals live serenely and leave the nature unscathed, when men skin and gut the earth before their death. They install complications for themselves, even for the babies to be born. How can I call them contented? They’re restless in the electronic snares. Always busy, they lose pleasures around. They never live, living tomorrow. First published in The Literary Hatchet (issue#28)