The Chair

a poem by Obaidur Rahman, Bangladesh

How strong is your faith,
In these Race days of Religions?
Do you believe in the righteous one,
The “divine” who exists in everyone?
Tragically, the world has turned into a fireplace…
Forlornly now; there is rage in every face.

Obsession with destructions,
Happy when lives are lost,
Don’t care what the world has to say
Oh, these beasts would never stop!
Don't think beyond their narrow view,
Don't care about me and you,
Even though it's us who always bear the cost.

Military suicides, welcome to the mass grave,
Humanity’s genocide, born to die as slaves.
All the talks in the peace process
Rolls on without effects,
They preach about justice
Holding guns into our faces.
Wonder what's it gonna be, revolution, peace
Or the devour of the dead?
Or maybe, the feast of Nuclear instead!!

Politics and economics,
And all the mockery of democracy,
With blood dripping down from every horizon
History writes the legacy.
Dirty claws of the war
Ripped our souls apart,
Fake complications of the dirty politics,
Won't give peace a chance to work.

Double faced dirty leaders,
Just opposite they way they appear,
Lives on the corruption
Aided by pet criminal and the liar.
Diabolically wrap up the whole world
With their cruelest of intensions,
Just to be on the CHAIR!!!

(C) Obaidur Rahman. Published in the poet’s debut book of English poetry titled “The Mystic Inferno” in 2012.

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