No Access To Fast Food, Branded Clothes And
The creation of nations,
that have passion,
for money and power,
is the absolute poverty.
Not having the access,
to shelter, food and clothing,
to have a healthy living.
Fifteen percent Americans,
fall under poverty line,
and they earn,
less than,
ONLY 22K American dollar,
per year.
In other parts of the world,
people live,
in appropriate poverty,
and they live on,
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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The Free Radicals With A Lonely Electron! !
just want to be beautiful,
stay away from free radicals,
radicals are singles and charged,
neighbor's electrons it fancied,
cheated neighbor become a free radical,
agitated with a lone electron in the outer shell:
the process becomes continuous,
looking for their pair in our cells.
If the free radical steals an electron,
from the base pair molecule of DNA,
the DNA will become cross linked,
cross link leads to aging,
Cross link occur between fat and protein,
yes, the fat and protein cross link,
the free radicals are the reason,
for this intrusion and the affection,
the polished, silky smooth surface,
that is cleaned, masked and moisturized,
the mirror on the wall reflected,
quarter of the salary spent on it,
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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When is the dawn?
I walked miles after miles on these dusty roads,
Wearing comfortable shoes to protect my sore feet,
This place is an example how a country,
Should not be managed and messed up.
This area exemplifies to prove the poverty,
That is churned out from corruption.
Every level of this country is well corrupted,
Politicians, judiciary, administrative and common men,
Who have some power to extract few dollars and cents.
Most men look sickly, but the women look all right,
Terribly skeletal human can be found here,
Walking, running and pedaling for money.
Cute broad eyes that look at me piercingly,
Poking my inability to talk about their miseries,
Half eaten stomach can't be filled with water,
Even the water is scarce; don't ask for clean water,
The corporation sends the water of various smells,
No program can be watched continuously,
As there is power interruption every other hour,
I have many yellow singlets after putting,
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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We Share Our Grandfathers! !
The land of mine, where my greatest of all grandfathers had matured,
There he played with my equally old grandmother, he clamored,
We all prayed to the same Gods who have been kept,
In the palatial temples, built with the salt of their sweat,
A capped man arrived six hundred years ago,
With the notion of spreading his belief on our soil,
Earlier a confused Hindu Prince, who was a coward,
Afraid of sickness and old age, suddenly enlightened,
Under the tree of pothy and talked about our doctrines,
With out mentioning the names of his Gods and attested,
As a God himself and safely sitting in hearts of many,
We should agree that we have flaws but our religion is good,
We should agree that our elders tortured the people,
In the name of caste and other customs and rituals,
Then came many sectors of Hinduism, a few of our grandfathers,
Who were so poor, believed in everything that was mystic,
And thought conversion could bring them wealth,
They have started to practice the home grown religions at first,
The dynasty, was so cruel and killed our grandfathers in mass,
Destroyed our beautiful temples to the ground,
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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