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Alok Srivastava Poem
Someone cry someone cry
someone cry someone cry.
For my life, it has died.
For my life, it has died.
Someone cry someone cry.
My life was pretty,
it was upright.
She was the mother
of all alive.
She was murdered
in broad daylight.
Someone cry someone cry
someone cry someone cry.
In the vicious
abyss of lies.
Amongst the people
verily lice,
She lived a life
of sacrifice.
Someone cry someone cry
someone cry someone cry.
There are no mourners,
there are no sighs.
There is no sun
in all the sky.
The earth is frigid
without a light.
Someone cry someone cry
someone cry someone cry.
There is no justice,
there are no cries.
There is no noise
of the uprights.
Sin is pretending
that all is right.
Someone cry someone cry
someone cry someone cry.
Someone cry someone cry
someone cry someone cry.
For my life, it has died,
For my life, it has died.
Someone cry someone cry.
Copyright © Alok Srivastava | Year Posted 2016
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Alok Srivastava Poem
From bottom to top,
my house was decayed.
Through thousands of years
of commands disobeyed.
I girdled my loins
to rebuild my home.
I re-laid the foundation
stone by stone.
Brick by brick
I rebuilt the walls.
House was renewed with
many victories small.
I painted the house
with colors of new zeal.
I furnished it with
virtues that heal.
I planted the garden
with flowers of love.
I installed the fountains
with waters from above.
I sat in the garden
admiring my creation.
At last, to God
I offered adoration.
Copyright © Alok Srivastava | Year Posted 2016
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Alok Srivastava Poem
The red bucket in my bathroom
suddenly one day broke.
Day by day it deteriorated
till it was revoked.
I needed some plastic
to melt for some work;
the red bucket was chosen
being already shirked.
Little by little, in few days,
the red bucket was cut.
From being a proper bucket,
it was not even its butt.
It sits there in a corner
waiting to die some more.
Unwanted, rejected,
it's not a bucket anymore.
Copyright © Alok Srivastava | Year Posted 2016
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Alok Srivastava Poem
They walk on me with thumping shoes,
as if they were uncaring brutes.
But I am sure in my heart;
they're sad for their blows smart.
Bitter indeed are the cruel nails,
on my flesh with wounds that ail.
Reminding me of cruci-fixion;
repeatedly I suffer affliction.
Let's take the pains of today,
in hope of the Lord's day.
He surely will exact revenge:
for the devils' innu-merable offense.
The stripes of so many years,
is naught before eternal cheers.
The cool wind from far off heaven,
invites us into arms pleasant.
So walk on me O my dears:
but mourning, for my many tears.
Copyright © Alok Srivastava | Year Posted 2016
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Alok Srivastava Poem
My heart is broken into a million pieces,
I don't care for sun and beaches.
In garden scourged by Lord's curses,
who looks to find ruddy roses?
My heart is broken,
my heart is broken,
my heart is broken,
my heart is broken.
Take away your paradise,
I find in it no delight.
Give it to someone better,
why throw it on a loosened kite?
My heart is broken,
my heart is broken,
my heart is broken,
my heart is broken.
You savor your precious nectar,
while I spill dew of my eyes.
You go mingle with the happy crowd,
while I drown in my sighs.
My heart is broken,
my heart is broken,
my heart is broken,
my heart is broken.
You go build your Eden Garden
on a new blessed ground.
Why rebuild the fallen ruins
where curses have made a mound?
My heart is broken,
my heart is broken,
my heart is broken,
my heart is broken.
You go find a better haven
to lay in your sweet desires.
Why burn them in the name of friendship
on my heart's wretched pyre?
My heart is broken into a million pieces,
I don't care for sun and beaches.
In garden scourged by Lord's curses,
who looks to find ruddy roses?
My heart is broken,
my heart is broken,
my heart is broken,
my heart is broken.
Copyright © Alok Srivastava | Year Posted 2016
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Alok Srivastava Poem
I am broken
and forsaken;
from the sky
fallen hard,
but I will still praise the Lord,
but I will still praise the Lord,
but I will still praise the Lord.
Born in sin,
yet forgiven,
by the blood of
His only son,
and I will hence praise the Lord,
and I will hence praise the Lord,
and I will hence praise the Lord.
With the prophets
is my prize,
in the sufferings
for Jesus Christ,
and I will hence praise the Lord,
and I will hence praise the Lord,
and I will hence praise the Lord.
From the waters
to the ground
he will turn my
life around,
and I will hence praise the Lord,
and I will hence praise the Lord,
and I will hence praise the Lord.
I am broken
and forsaken;
from the sky
fallen hard,
but I will still praise the Lord,
but I will still praise the Lord,
but I will still praise the Lord.
I am broken
and forsaken;
from the sky
fallen hard,
but I will still praise the Lord,
but I will still praise the Lord,
but I will still praise the Lord.
Copyright © Alok Srivastava | Year Posted 2016
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Alok Srivastava Poem
On cool cool night,
riding my motorbike,
I feel all right,
like a bird light light.
With wind in my hair,
and zeal in my soul,
I glide on the road,
like a graceful foal.
With God in my heart,
and eyes on the prize,
I travel in the night
to the realm of light.
How bad could be life,
I have suffered all plight.
In the darkest time
shall the sun rise rise.
With God on my side,
I will win this fight.
I will cry no more,
I will fly high high.
On cool cool night,
riding my motorbike,
I feel all right,
like a bird light light.
Copyright © Alok Srivastava | Year Posted 2016
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Alok Srivastava Poem
The house has been cleaned,
the hearts have been washed.
With oil, the lamps are replete;
all await with bated breath,
the bridegroom to greet.
Copyright © Alok Srivastava | Year Posted 2016
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Alok Srivastava Poem
She speaks Spanish,
I don't understand a word,
but she becomes irresistible,
luring me by a call surd.
I wish to make love to her,
while she whispers in Latin;
I will draw out all the honey
that Spain has begotten.
Let all the fair girls of the world
beware of my intention:
I will not let this age end
without our union.
Copyright © Alok Srivastava | Year Posted 2016
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Alok Srivastava Poem
Living in a foreign land of aliens,
I desire you, I desire you, my men.
Men who are silenced by sunrises,
who make noises at car races.
Men who teach their children bicycle,
who make love like angel Michael,
I desire you, I desire you, my men.
Living in a foreign land of aliens,
I desire you, I desire you, my men.
Men who shed a tear for their neighbors,
injustice who fight with their labors.
Men who earn a living with justice,
who give up their lives with bliss,
I desire you, I desire you, my men.
Living in a foreign land of aliens,
I desire you, I desire you, my men.
Men who live with love in my heart,
who with patience wait for the Lord.
Men who wash their souls all the day,
who go to churches in order to pray,
I desire you, I desire you, my men.
Living in a foreign land of aliens,
I desire you, I desire you, my men.
Copyright © Alok Srivastava | Year Posted 2016
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