NEETHU MOL
VAMPIRE IN OPPOSITION TO SONS OF THE SOIL
Crown
of capitalism conquered India
Our
nation of tiger has been buried,
replaced
by nation of charging bull
Democracy
secretly imprisoned and vanished.
Our
head is waiting with golden plate
to
receive capitalistic vomiting as pledge,
some
have more sense of hearing Mr. Big shots
sleep
talking but grief of sons of the soil
has
not worth as layers of dust on their sandals.
Sure
that pain will echo from infinite
Corner
of nature. She hear and waves
her
curious branches for coolness breeze,
to
wipe away the tears of blood in farmers.
Their
suffering is reflected on deep
vein
of sea as beast of Tempest.
But
why their sobbing grief is suppressed
by
ruling class wolf of our country.
Deliberately
unrecognized for the opium of power,
Indian
authorities are real puppet
from
the hands of deep pockets of money.
Millions
of money lost it’s worth and sinned
in
front of an emotional drops of tears,
which
flow from their pain.
Winter
may freeze sleep everything,
Summer
may scrotch to burn
but
farmers had to feed all life.
Hands
of power and money celebrate the
harvest
labour pain of all growers,
they
are Judged by appearance of
Mud
upon clothes, as gift of earth
wrinkled
dark skin as reward of sun.
Farmers
trust of life and hunger
is
sacrificed to satisfy Millionaires.
Capitalist
suck the blood of farmers
like
a leech or bloodline eating parasite.
Every
profession are noble pursuits
and
all are necessary to sustain one’s life,
but
farmers are who help stay, sleep
alive
against hard shore of life.
When
farmers stream of tears
overflows
and wet the earth for
their
right, marched towards our
national
capital you treat as beast of Alien
neglected
their painful suffering life.
Trust
me, soil feel shame to decay
your
corpse not even a plant wish
to
grow upon your grave forever.
NEETHU MOL
I M. A ENGLISH
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