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Warrior says by Garima Pura

Death and the Maiden by Egon Schiele

Warrior says:

Wage wars. Do not offer wage.

Since their homes are dust now,

Rust their bodies.

If poverty they escape,

Spread your semen in the women of the land,

To claim the next generation too, as yours.

Once there’s no human to feed on,

Your weapons should scalpel the earth open,

It is now yours son, savage it all you want.

Since your weapons may fall short in supply,

Allow me to stock your heart with enough stones

So that no measure of love, hope or faith, can penetrate you.

Plant in you a gall of steel, here

I made it out of the earth you drilled

Greased with hope of the people you killed

Plant it, the next time you murder a pregnant woman

Or impregnate a raped one,

Your hands won’t shudder.

Here, decorate your mind

With the garland of my beliefs

The thread that runs through them is dollar

This garland will blind you, when your dagger dodges

A child with gun, his blood too,

The color of blue.

My will is your command

Because I ensure that none of my men

Does all of the above, to yours.


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