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‘Shikwah’ (A complaint of a victim of oppression)

‘Shikwah’ (A complaint of a victim of oppression)
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Kamran Bashir 
This complaint is of perpetual grief
Leafing from the exceptional memory
the immortal misery,
And the four roomed heart.
The exit from a muscular home
Of thy creation
To the ongoing oppression,
We are inclosed by Draconian nights.
After leaving the ungodly night
Our dawn worshipped thy might.
As the day excited in its colours
the connection ended to thy wires.
The indigence of high spirits
Drove me away from thy lifts.
The womb of vices
Gave birth to more Pisces
Diving in the water of crisis.
Thy creation priced the prices,
Lordly, writing the Satanic verses
Speaking impotently,
perhaps soliloquy:
Oh the Creator of fine light
You are out of my sight,
A deep dark secret!
Present in every bit.
You order in a mysterious way,
Impatient longing their last day.
Some are impatient to hear
That you are a vacuum fear!!!
Is your judgement hit-or-miss?
Are the records of barbarity codified now?
Pleading in a list,
As you hear first___
We are caged in
The black hole of sorrows,
By some ruthless Pharaohs.
Don’t you look down on them with disdain?
They still are ruling, and now the main.
Don’t you see the blues turning red?
Don’t you see the clues of the dead?
Don’t you see the hawks?
Now selling the flesh,
Acting like the mesh.
The birth canals are now death canals,
Daggers ooze away the hot and fresh blood.
Oh I have read,
Adam wasn’t born from a mother.
Would you now
let the blood of Mothers
flow freely through gutters?
In this loot of budding crowd,
I have lost my beloved.
A small beloved of this blue,
That wraps me inside and leaves no clue.
Who is devoted to you now!
There are a few left for thou.
And they too are in a game,
Creating ruthless divisions of thy name.
For whom is the heaven or hell made.
They both Commix in a new kind of ade.
Cannibals in Heaven,
Loading their bellies.
Thy comrades in hell,
Their bellies cut
For the acid that
Would digest the sliced flesh more.
my Lord, I fear you!!!
As I don’t fear them,
And I don’t want to add
To my wails.
I kvetch thee tho’,
But you are not my foe.
I accept what is in my fate.
But others are not like me,
What answer would  be yours?
This may be my last complaint,
If you whisper to someone
the answer of this complaint.
The poet is from Kuchmulla,Tral, Kashmir. He studies in Class 11th and can be reached at kamranbashir543@gmail.com.

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