Inching towards Disaster

The harsh and hostile world outside roars on, gores on
lynching, pinching; inching towards disaster.
Hate crimes surge, merging with the violent landscape.
Humanity with its obsession with the little green men,
continues to be curious about life on Mars.
On Earth, furious folks, wearing masks, ruefully finger their scars
plodding on, trying to save themselves from pollution, multi-hued.

The landscape outside flaunts its rain-drenched look.
With an amazing panache, a koel, in love with the rainy weather,
strikes a chord, not in sync with the macabre world.

In my room, I sink into the luxurious leather upholstery,
ears riveted to the soothing song,
eyes fixed on a book.
Hands balled into fists,
I close that colorful chapter of sepia memories,
no more enthralled, as I glimpse something.

On the parapet wall there is a figure
sitting, cross -legged; why does it snigger?
Is it my alter ego jeering my escapism,
as I creep into my snug world, once again,
where birds sing, trees sing and tiny birds make love
under the indulgent stars?
Oh perish the thought, why should sniggering figures
stop me from following my whims?
Let them snigger, and let me be content
snuggling next to my hazy doughnut flavored memories
and forget the howl and hiss of a world gone crazy.

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About Santosh

An educationist with a passion for writing , having published some novels for young adults, some essays and some poems. My poetic biography of Mahatma Gandhi will soon be published .

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