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Concocted Reality

By Samayita Bhattacharya

I usually don’t give an introduction to any poem that I write but I think this one deserves it; considering the times that we are living right now.

-Trading Thoughts


"This poem talks about the ground reality of present day politics. Whilst the leaders sitting on a pile of money and dressed in their fancy dresses decide to play populist politics, for the daily wage earners, every single day is a war- a matter of their survival. And they fight in their war alone, while the rich more often than not, silence their protests with bullets." -Samayita


Corpses lie on the road,

Bruised and beaten to the core,

Limousines drive away,

Unfazed by the gore,

Cries of humanity blatantly tread,

Under the feet of a few well dressed.

In the war of ideals, few must be slain,

Collateral damage they will be named,

Worthless wars of men all grown,

Bullets scream their sacred oaths,

Masters beat the desks, debates soar,

In the fight for power the trumpets bellow.

The roads are lined with skin and bones,

And the ashes from the carcasses-

They peep from outside of open shops,

Empty purses pile as the economy drops,

Resting over printed notes,

The ones with power sing their lores.

The protesters march the scarlet streets,

Their voices bludgeoned to seep beneath,

The hounds of the suited masterminds bark,

Their theories of fancy autocracy,

Masking it behind a noble cause,

Naming control as democracy.

They preach of spite in disguise of peace,

Dressed in white the xenophobic beasts,

Like a girdle around their waists,

They embrace intolerance with grace,

Put on a facade of perfection,

With no remorse like a gaudy lace.

They deluded us into living this farce,

Dissent the truth for it is harsh,

Wait for them to ring the bells,

As they claw into our entrails,

Hope now sinks into an abyss,

Unhindered, the tale goes on.


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