The doubters will cross the coals
after the raid.
Apology will not be in attendance.

Sitting on the throne of
cold blooded assassination, do you think
justice demands the revenge?

Whom you are killing, the body
or the spirit? Heads will roll
after debriefing.

O my god, politics always
enters the fray, when you are preparing
a carpet of roses.

Against the black moon
a fast unto death
by a virile sunblind?

Satish Verma

Poetry In English
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