We are besot to kill God for better living.
We are made day after day
Not to escape from our destined doom.
We are pushed to the genetic darkness
To be burnt in the name of light.
It is now no more a beautiful place to live
In what words you may say.
However you may claim or argue with your quantum dots.
It is not a beautiful place
To love and be loved together by all.
Here, sky has turned into a dead cloud
Here, absurdity in cycle is now the pillow of minds.
Had we but noticed how our intelligence
Has become our sole devil!
The wings of dead birds smile now
In the form of plastic flowers to our lungs’ tree.
Perhaps we will never confess
To our killing habits.
Never so further…
Just we keep killing everyone
To kill ourselves slowly in every coming hour.
About the contributor: Biswajit Bauna is an Indian born bilingual poet and research scholar . He is a teacher by profession. He is presently pursuing his Ph.D from Seacom Skills University, Bolpur, Santiniketan, India.He writes poems both in Bengali and English.