Carnival Of Victory
The month of August, carnival for all the year,
When Anna forces the wild democracy move his way,
And showed the nation his power on a single day.
Krishna on Janamashtimi blessed his old son dear;
August 27,2011, lavish, mesmerizes far and near.
The thirteen day fast made all tyrants lay,
Like rotten meat in a garbage tray.
August, revolution, burnt all the liars.
The night guards its dear masses in fine,
Of kingdom’s: honest pearls rebuking rogues few,
Our white empress fled, in western towers safe line,
Back home, August, feasting and dancing on happy dew,
Ready to gulp the corrupts in a single drought,
Sunshine and clean air, delivered by Anna fine!
poem by Dr. Yogesh Sharma
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National Anthem For A Doomed Nation
With passing years for the nation that dies without battle;
Only the artificial fire of the rusted guns,
Only the faltering and false words’ rapid rattle,
Can nurse out only false and unachievable illusions.
All laugh at, for her; no neither love nor holy bells;
Nor any loyal voice of mourners for martyrs,
The cry, pain and demented elegy of empty shells;
And leaders laughing at, from corrupted sad shires.
O God! Lit the lamps to flee the evil roll,
Not in the hands of traitors, but in their heart and eyes;
Must flow the bright glimmers of good ties,
The joy of masses’ brows ought to be their call;
The flowers of sweetness and joy set in minds,
And each sick vibes flee down of finds.
poem by Dr. Yogesh Sharma
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Hate Industry
Hate industry drives the nation,
It gives automatic up gradation,
In the dirty vote trade with a wild card,
Entry into the secular paradise.
Hate Modi, Hate Tytler, Hate Sajjan;
Hate Gujarat, Hate India, Hate Hindu;
Hate Brahmin, Hate Merit, Hate patriotism;
Hate is a big money minting industry.
Filming dead, nude and hungry;
Branded as art modern and grand,
Exhibiting rioting, burning and raping;
Treated as activism, valiant and virtuous.
Awarded heavy packages for Hate shops,
NGOs, secularists, activists, journalists;
Intellectuals, lawyers, lobbyist;
All take a dip in this Hate waters.
[...] Read more
poem by Dr. Yogesh Sharma
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Wonderful India
India is a wonderful nation,
Here Indians are insulted
But foreigners are respected,
Here Hindus are snubbed,
But minorities are nurtured.
Here patriots are offended,
But terrorists are flattered.
Here natives are hounded,
But intruders are welcomed.
Here honest are defeated,
But corrupt rule the nation.
Here merit is mocked,
But UN-meritorious gets quotas.
Here disciplined get intimidated,
But rogues roam fearlessly.
Here SRKs are above law,
But saints are booked.
Here justice is injustice,
And injustice is justice.
Here stone dargahas get cozy chaders,
[...] Read more
poem by Dr. Yogesh Sharma
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Sharia Jaziya And Sikhs
Attacked from all corners,
Herd of bearded, skull capped killers,
Bombs, gun wielding fanatic riders,
Only Sharia and Jaziya and death gliders.
Uprooted from their land, no food no water,
Only bombs and bullets freely fire,
Crazy messenger of death and terror,
Heralded death to many dear and near.
Watched with horror by helpless eyes,
No love or help from any sides,
Free loot of Sharia and Jaziya chides,
Sympathy false from secular step brothers,
Where love and help reserved for Sharia followers.
N.B. this sonnet (short poem) was penned down on religious discrimination against Sikhs and non Muslims in Aurkarzai in Swat valley in Pakistan who were forced out from their houses for not paying Jaziya, a communal tax.
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poem by Dr. Yogesh Sharma
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India: The Destroyer
We live in a nation,
Here rulers rob nation,
And leaders loot people,
Governments destroy system.
Here doctors devastate health,
Universities destroy knowledge.
Here jurists destroy justice,
And police destroys freedom.
Press corrupts information.
Economists destroy economy,
Sociologists destroy society,
And secularism destroys love.
Here minority banish majority,
And rogues oppress the honest.
Killers and debauch are national icons,
But brave and patriots are abused.
[...] Read more
poem by Dr. Yogesh Sharma
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Dark Air Dark Light
Where lifeless rivers weep
With shame, into the deep,
She sleeps a pained sleep:
Flows with rot.
killed by ugly progressing war,
She has lived so far
To live where darkness are
Alas! Sad lot.
She left the bright morn,
She passes meadows of corn,
For world sad and porn,
And dark springs.
Through dark like black veil,
She sees the sky, pale,
And hears the birds' mail,
That sadly sings.
Dark air and dark light,
Moves over bed and breast;
[...] Read more
poem by Dr. Yogesh Sharma
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Wounded Civilization
Once retorted Karl Marx,
Father of all disturbances and hoax,
Hindu history is nothing,
But the history of defeats and beatings.
Noble laureate Naipaul again thundered,
Hindu civilization a civilization wounded.
Noble laureate Amartya Sen mocked,
As Talkative Indians, do nothing.
On his much touted visit to Copenhagen,
Jairam Naresh cursed,
India deserves a Nobel Prize, as a nation dirtiest.
Twitter obsessed Tharoor again lamented,
Indian people’s class as cattle class.
Why she has a long history of beatings?
Why mother India is so dirty?
Why her children are so work shy?
Centuries of slavery and plunders,
Gulped them with deadly Masochism,
[...] Read more
poem by Dr. Yogesh Sharma
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Nation Without Passion
Thy own cherished laws hast spoiled thy nation,
All the books piping the masses to degeneration,
As the pain deadliest, emerged from the ocean;
Men venomous, dropping on the holy land and occasion,
And has made every roaring river vile creation.
As all have out borne the ages in drain,
The reapers pull their yoke in pain,
Lost his sweat and lost his green in lane,
And rotted before his youth gleam and gain,
Where living cry for spring cheers and rain.
No night joy with moon and stars found,
Hath cry in anger and lash the wind,
Misery and disease go round,
Through the deadly head bound,
And mourn the season’s disaster hound.
Chiding autumn, crude winter, fiery summer glide,
Left the liveries and lives to chide;
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poem by Dr. Yogesh Sharma
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Unheard Voices
Sometimes sorry means,
It is not my fault,
It is yours’, accept it,
It would make me feel better,
As there must be some compulsions,
Behind this guilt
And wounded self get healed.
Sometimes OK means,
Don’t end the conversation,
I want to talk more,
Sometimes words fail to express emotions,
Some future manuscript of relationship is in veils,
Try to unveil it.
Sometimes take care means,
I am not well and need to be cared for,
Because faith is very deep,
But no strength to express,
And play on your orchestra of sensuous melody.
Sometimes not attending calls means,
Call me back; I need to be cared by you,
[...] Read more
poem by Dr. Yogesh Sharma
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