PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I forgot, was it me 
in a body pile draped in dust, 
still hot, bruised, burnt, a mad megalomaniac 
starting a civil war, creating suicide bombers, 
young virgins inhaling death? 

This journey under the guns, displacing 
hapless thousands, will reach destination 
on thick, blood stained red, dirt road of life? Step by step 
the dynasty breaks and violence, a malignant 
spread overtakes the bones 

of avatars; the round bloodshot eyes 
cross the barriers of silence and step out 
from the skin: they were bombing 
his bunker. 

*On the death of Vellupillai Prabhakaran, LTTE Leader