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subject: TORCHES, TORCHES, TORCHES, TORCHES, TORCHES, TORCHES, TORCHES, TORCHES [print this page]

TORCHES, TORCHES, TORCHES, TORCHES, TORCHES, TORCHES, TORCHES, TORCHES

It was a big trauma.

Granary went overboard,

my boat was torpedoed.

No romance was left now.

At the burial of the moon

aliens were arriving.

You do not want to call it a genocide.

The massacre of millions, of children

and women. The civil war was inside you,

not in the homes of innocents. A god

falls on the rail-tracks to commit

suicide. His severed limbs I would not see.

I want to close the window,

as the white dove was carrying

dead leaves for a mass grave.

Satish Verma

-------------------------

TORCHES

It was a big trauma.

Granary went overboard,

my boat was torpedoed.

No romance was left now.

At the burial of the moon

aliens were arriving.

You do not want to call it a genocide.

The massacre of millions, of children

and women. The civil war was inside you,

not in the homes of innocents. A god

falls on the rail-tracks to commit

suicide. His severed limbs I would not see.

I want to close the window,

as the white dove was carrying

dead leaves for a mass grave.

Satish Verma

-------------------------

TORCHES

It was a big trauma.

Granary went overboard,

my boat was torpedoed.

No romance was left now.

At the burial of the moon

aliens were arriving.

You do not want to call it a genocide.

The massacre of millions, of children

and women. The civil war was inside you,

not in the homes of innocents. A god

falls on the rail-tracks to commit

suicide. His severed limbs I would not see.

I want to close the window,

as the white dove was carrying

dead leaves for a mass grave.

Satish Verma

-------------------------

TORCHES

It was a big trauma.

Granary went overboard,

my boat was torpedoed.

No romance was left now.

At the burial of the moon

aliens were arriving.

You do not want to call it a genocide.

The massacre of millions, of children

and women. The civil war was inside you,

not in the homes of innocents. A god

falls on the rail-tracks to commit

suicide. His severed limbs I would not see.

I want to close the window,

as the white dove was carrying

dead leaves for a mass grave.

Satish Verma

-------------------------

TORCHES

It was a big trauma.

Granary went overboard,

my boat was torpedoed.

No romance was left now.

At the burial of the moon

aliens were arriving.

You do not want to call it a genocide.

The massacre of millions, of children

and women. The civil war was inside you,

not in the homes of innocents. A god

falls on the rail-tracks to commit

suicide. His severed limbs I would not see.

I want to close the window,

as the white dove was carrying

dead leaves for a mass grave.

Satish Verma

-------------------------

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