A heavy blow yet again,
Why not blaspheme the ill-fate…
The freezing blood erupts
The bloated veins burst
Red spurted the sight red-veiled—
The figure-starved media
Epicentre to perimeter, magnitude 6.9,
Death toll mis-informed 400
Left me crazed, nail-biting.
The blind world always be…
Who’s on the spot, big mouths?
Even there’s follow on here—
Be always her docile ones!
Those distended live hearts
Those buried, in semi-sense,
Challenge the smothering breaths;
Their telepathies unheard.
How without even the needy,
Shame, excavation machineries,
There. You don’t have them,
Big Star China! Oh, yes,
The sufferers, mostly Tibetans,
Not of her sincere concern,
But in shows, dramatized—
The shows to sustain further,
As to extract yet deeper
Dispossession it’s called.
Even if I burst red…,
Be incoherently angry,
I can get the exact words,
The poking pointed trident
To burst your blackish proved.
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