Poetry
Vishnu Prasad
Territories are compressed
Into a zip file.
Fields, paddy, and wheat
Are compressed into
The hidden folder; the only soft part found in them.
Our mother’s acidity burned -intestines,
Haven’t done cartography in
Any corners of their motherboard.
Our hard times are encrypted,
Fixed in their hard disk
Our design is under modification
For that, We’re quarantined.
Twenty twenty is a fast game.
Game of the gentleman
One should score out of boundaries most of time.
Like China do to India,
India do to China
Today I saw in my courtyard a Myna.*
Single Myna is a bad omen
My mom’s mechanical brain
Started having hallucinations
She said.
Kla kla kli kli kloo kloo*
China did suicide, Myna sung!
So, America came to an end.
Kla kla kli kli kloo kloo
Ram did suicide Myna sung
So, India came to an end.
Poor and voters did suicide
So, Rich and leaders –
Came to an end.
Now earth is left Silent and quite.
In a mother board, our mother’s acidity burned.
Single Myna was a bad omen
Everything came to an end.
In a hard disk,
Our design Left unfinished.
Territories are compressed
Into a zip file.
…
Myna* is a bird.
Kla kla kli kli kloo kloo* the tweet of myna.
…