Sticky silence
Takes the world by storm
Of lapsing nights
Wakeful sleepers lengthens their torsos
In long spasms of black anger
Wrists still untied, ankles rigidly unbound
Inexorably apart so far
From each other's mimicry of fear
As the fear overshadows fear
In predestined shackles of purple tears

Purple tears see the rose
And the rose sees the read of their black anger
In their faces, in their blindly eyes
When the caravan of Black Marias comes everyday
To rape their wakeful nights
To cut through their daisy veins
Of their bloodless days
And nights of heat and dust, unwishing
Creakingly unabiding to haul them
Over the burning coals in profusion of blood and sweats

Everyday the Black Maria comes
To fear them away to their long lining ghettos
They see rose, not knowing
What will happen over the next full moon
Not knowing what will save them
From the laughing democracy of feudal violence
From the ritual scriptures
Of god's own stateless armageddon.

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There are many religions in the world and there are many followers of different religions. Everyone feels and thinks that his religion is all too better than the other religions. But is there much difference between the different religions?

As I say, there is not much difference, it can be inferred that no religion is better than no religion. Is this categorisation of much help to come to any conclusion? They are almost same in form and content. Only their guises are different.

Religion is not that much an important stuff to say whether it is good or bad. It is blind faith that sustains religion in our everyday lives. Not only that, religion has caused more harm than good to human life and society.

What on earth is religion here for? To serve what purpose and to what extent? It is very contentious. But what can be said for certain that it is nothing but blind superstition. There is no rationality and scientific temper in religious thought and ideas. It is just some blind faith and dogma that carry religion home.

Majority of the population all over the world are still under its dark influence. That influence has made the situation more worse than it can be imagined. With the salvation theory by its side as preached by the concerned proponents, one religion has waged violent war of jihad against the other. Why so? Had the temper of religion been tolerant and humane, hundreds of such wars could have been averted.

People can live by praying to God alone. It is their choice but no compulsion. It is all non-sense and narrow-mindedness, it is all fanaticism and violence in its contents. Still then religion is ruling the roost in people's everyday lives without any rhyme and reason. People all over the world are embroiled in religious faiths forsaking their senses of rationality and reason.

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Something
Like an image
Of bone and skull
A grasshopper
On a tetrahedron
In opaque green wigs
Bombarded
By a five-hour bombshell

Something
Like a puppet
On a string
Fondling the breasts
Of a wallflower
That could not hear
The bombs of darkness

Something
Like a winged firefly
Lying in ambush
To shoot off the bombshell
For the moments of a five-hour
Spoiling the the grave of darkness
Of a caracass wonderfully woven
Into the web of virgin spring
To massacre the the bloodshed
In effeminate love and rejoice
And the muse of guns roared at last
Into a laughter by the rule of game.

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Far from the depths of night
Whispering days shouting in fear of darkness
Lengthening shadows of a quivering man lying all alone
As void as an orbital circle of no return
Begging mercy in voices of no cheers and tears
The man standing in a world of nothingness
As if no breath to expire for eternity
Still the guiseless man seeking no solace
From the very beneath of his soulless shadows
A tearing silence breaking asunder all the while
The emptiness of the surrounding chasing him
Chasing him like piercing arrows in muffled voices
His days and nights echoing only the lapses of moments
As if no more pangs of faith dropping dead
In humane beliefs from the ancint empire of weal and woes
No more sounds of existing conscience widening
Nor carrying the corpses of the man's dying soliloquy
As if the man twice dead among the burgeoning woods...
Who is the man drowning himself in his own shadows
Who is the man staring vacantly in disbelief
Is it me who has emptied himself of all burdens
Is it me who has buried his treasury of angst of truth?
Still the man breathing in his shallow depth
As if the world has emptied his silence on the grave.

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They look lamely the shape of beast
Bloody breath pissing on the satin soft mattress
Paralysed limbs hang on to the bulging eyeball pilloried
Like unacknowledged death staring at the scarecrow
To replicate their dark matters failing to see god’s uppercut
As they stink of the colour of horror masked in white fangs
As explicit as the walking shadow with a knife into the depth of water

They clap their whoring nostril, they flap their cheering wings
To loosely unfurl their bewitchingly shining daggers
Drawn at the huge dump of corpses hurling abusives towards the flame
To allay the shapes to come in a beastly blinding darkness
On a silken crucible of fire deranged and destined in a diagonal crosswind
And they look as usual the castrated eunuchs of the needling empire
Thumping their breasts in shaggy fornication of perpetual theorem
Of algebra equating the flurry of urging libido guising in whoring damsel.

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Lost, lost, lost
As if lost in a labyrinth
Of quicksilver pain
You like a grounded reptile
Slashing and burning
In jerking saliva
And I am hardly sinking
Like your drowning flotilla
In a breastful of hemlock

Thump, thump throbs
Your little heart
Beating hard upon
My closing moments
Penetrating your shame
With a ramrod
Of vanity crucified

To save you from dying
In collapsing disguise
From the long breath
Of your shadow's weary self
I see you it is me in you
Being overshadowed
In leaves of blue hyacinths.

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