The new battlefield
.
This isn’t how it can be done.
This will never bridge a gap.
This will only sting and stun.
This fidgets on my lap.
That isn’t right I’d say.
That isn’t bright as well.
That deserves only a nay.
That doesn’t ring a bell.
I’ve heard them all for many times
Both this and that are maniacal twins
Won’t and don’t chime in rhymes
But no one knows what really wins.
This isn’t right. That is wrong.
This battle of nays goes on and on.
We know none know the victory song
They whine and crib from dusk to dawn.
They shout a lot, never pause to hear
They shout other voices down
They fear and yet throw acidic fear
And put on a fearful, tearful frown.
They may not seem but are the same
Differing voices are but war cries
Of marauders in the same game
And where everyone finally dies.
.
.
.
Arvind Passey
Written on 06 January 2020
