Politics
Fine, subtle and covert
If overt,
They are perceived as attacks
On the ego
By another swollen ego.
Tactics, we play by tactics
Machinations of the human mind
To survive amidst throes
Of plaguing insecurity
Of crippling fear
Of losing hold
And power
That we bequeath ourselves
At our own free will.
I am the monarch of
All I survey
Want to survey
We hold on
Crabby, crying, cribbing
We hold on
Cringing, clinging, crawling
With ugly uncouth movements
On the canvas of life
With the colour of politics!
(c)Praneeta Paradkar, 2005.
Labels: poetry
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