Member Poem

Grave festivities shrouded the already bent milieus,
As Time's chariot took to
The track of 'Kali', the Age of Vice.

Under a burning sun, on a blackened earth
By barren shrubs and trees
Passed a procession of blaring trumpets and drums
Blown and beaten by the praetorians of iniquity,
The gangster of this dusky dawn,
In gentle pants and coats dressed
Wearing formal ties, ironic to a dacoit's attire.
Literate pens adorning breast-pockets, in place of guns;
So were the leaders of this parade.

Next in turn, on a donkey rode,
Sin, in flirty apparels
Carrying an inhuman sword
An ugly face hid under a headdress of laurels.

In a palanquin behind, was a crying mother,
The abducted pure Earth
Who had been married in
The light from the pyre of holy scriptures
In a tavern of gamblers,
The temple of prostitution.
Down her cheeks the Pacific rolled
Held captive in glittering rings and chains.
Gagged Morality and stilled Decency,
Were the only bearers of this heavy litter.

At the end was Vicious progeny -
The rich mindrupts, who tempt fortune on life;
Whose sight rapes chastity; those cannibal vampires -
Dancing on the carpet of trampled skilled hands.

Now they will ravage all nooks
To feast on the last innocent drops of blood
To wassail in the name of this induced relation.