loss of individuality_poem

LOSS OF INDIVIDUALITY



“That kongressy,” yelled one neighbour. And brush
With intra-racism intricacy. Purposefully discriminatory as the
Look on his face. No end to this, absolutely by the
Sickle-hammer-star brigade, just as no end to the flow
Of water through the Ganges. Red Empire, indeed.
Obscenities, virtue, deep rooted. Torture, invasion
Burnt with sulphur and pored molten lead.
The ‘otherness’, local Ethnocentrism resulted out,
Of the notion of the cultural bandwagon, now a ‘cliché’ ----
This oft-repeated adage.
Middle Age barbarism. Modern Age feudalism --- not unequal.
Plots concocted, vulgar-like, a blister ----
Unthinkable predicament, rather shameless. Interiors of
Conscience. Phallic domination, where even eagles dare.


Pick up ‘vegetables and women’ in the same breath, that’s your job
Subservient. Sidekicks all and sundry.
Insipient ---- the rest. Terrorised, not the body of the condemned, but
The mind and soul of the freethinkers. Haven’t dare to be exile.
The clown-king, hidden in self-righteous rhetoric, nudity.
George Orwell’s 1984 revisited, albeit in a reformed state.
Mobocracy such --- even Aristotle would have backtracked.
Mirroring this last gasp of idealogy gone bankrupt.
Form of neo-colonialism. Insidious.
Forgotten the song : “Tomorrow to fresh woods and pastures new.”
Assurance in idiocacy. Ringmasters and trapeze-artists fifteen lacs ;
Ever-ready to share the booty.
When did we last dare to be ‘True’ individuals ?






------------------::-----------------

loss of individuality_poem

LOSS OF INDIVIDUALITY



“That kongressy,” yelled one neighbour. And brush
With intra-racism intricacy. Purposefully discriminatory as the
Look on his face. No end to this, absolutely by the
Sickle-hammer-star brigade, just as no end to the flow
Of water through the Ganges. Red Empire, indeed.
Obscenities, virtue, deep rooted. Torture, invasion
Burnt with sulphur and pored molten lead.
The ‘otherness’, local Ethnocentrism resulted out,
Of the notion of the cultural bandwagon, now a ‘cliché’ ----
This oft-repeated adage.
Middle Age barbarism. Modern Age feudalism --- not unequal.
Plots concocted, vulgar-like, a blister ----
Unthinkable predicament, rather shameless. Interiors of
Conscience. Phallic domination, where even eagles dare.


Pick up ‘vegetables and women’ in the same breath, that’s your job
Subservient. Sidekicks all and sundry.
Insipient ---- the rest. Terrorised, not the body of the condemned, but
The mind and soul of the freethinkers. Haven’t dare to be exile.
The clown-king, hidden in self-righteous rhetoric, nudity.
George Orwell’s 1984 revisited, albeit in a reformed state.
Mobocracy such --- even Aristotle would have backtracked.
Mirroring this last gasp of idealogy gone bankrupt.
Form of neo-colonialism. Insidious.
Forgotten the song : “Tomorrow to fresh woods and pastures new.”
Assurance in idiocacy. Ringmasters and trapeze-artists fifteen lacs ;
Ever-ready to share the booty.
When did we last dare to be ‘True’ individuals ?






------------------::-----------------