where the writers are
Want to be rebel

I want to be called rebel

With most dreaded label

To fight for cause and excel

Just survive in world to tell


Why my pen does not break down?

When I hear woes and pain unknown

How many perish in day light bombing?

And how many disappear in combing?


Nothing comes out that easily

No enjoyment also if that comes readily

We need to enjoy hard earned freedom

Such joy is experienced seldom


I right with fierce language

Even though feel the burden of an age

But I want no one to be bonded in cage

I wish to rewrite the struggle on golden pages


Our own brethren killing sons of soil

When I hear such tale, the blood definitely boils

I wish to take up arms and fight

Without then looking into wrong or right


Crime against women is on rise

This pushes me into Dark Age with surprise

Did we dream such stage with promises?

Was our blood shed to earn the curses?


No one may answer all these questions

There is upright thinking in relations

Of late there has come so much bitterness

We find hatred and cruelty on face


Let us not forget our forefathers who did sacrifice

Took us to down road and long way with safe place

We are not pledging ourselves to the wishes of downtrodden

Poor remain poor with so much of the burden


What do I wish to write in their memory?

Express helplessness with regret and sorry

This causes me great concern and worry

I shall loose no moments in hurry