NEED NOT SUFFER

The tears were walking along with 
laughter. My face was roasted. 
The fish-men were moving 
the political wheels. 

As the chaos was widening, 
the humming birds started to depart. 
And the seeds were catching fire 
from anonymous snipers. 

The candle march at night 
gleamed the question marks. 
The dirt, the smudges, the motifs 
and viscera, all were becoming one. 

And the grass stinks with the 
fallen monarchy, after dismantling 
the author of funerals. Give me 
a final kiss of death for baring life.

Satish Verma