I am a subhuman,
living in stupor-
when you live
in a land of goats
you are unable to read signs-
Night appears to be sizzling
with light
while Day lurches under cover of darkness-
this happens
when you live with goats
in a goat-land….
at night which originally is a day
you find hollowed, murdered words
lying like famished humans of the Bengal Famine-
you find hollow-men brawling
in talk shows of spicy politics-
and you can’t smell apocalypse with a blocked nose
while bridges collapse and fire consumes traders-
yet you are clueless-
you mistake the scimitar for a moon-
and write poems-on a breezy day
which actually is the blackest of nights-
this is because
you live with goats
in the goat-land.
Posted for Susan’s Midweek Motif ~ Evidence/Clues @ Poets United
&
Sharing with dVerse Open Link Night #228
sumanar/lekha 