Monday, 23 April 2012

I'm divine

My own newspaper,
My own Tv channel,
My own courtiers
Singing paeans
Ready to caper.

Own army to loose terror,
To check purity of marriage
Relatives and palanquin bearers.

Army to block road,
To loose their goads,
On the so called errant
And voices deviant.

I’m the king
Purely divine
I open mouth
And His dictates follows
For you to follow.
Sing, sing with me.
Without any bellow.

But be careful tots
Smile not, ye,
Ye Voice not.
Otherwise will
Send all to Kalapani,
Inside the Andaman
To remind you of
The torture of British Raj.

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