Aw! What is wrong there,
Kannur,
Lost have you, your vision?
Smell don’t you the
blood-odour,
Gushing as rivulets red in
colour?
Wanes the soul of soil,
when
The pretty name, louts stain.
Ah! Dear natives, open your
minds,
Isn’t the same, the hue of
all blood?
No fear of remorse, rock the rogues
And chop into bits the
rival’s figure,
Blotting the quiet, seen
around,
Splashing unrest in profuse
measure.
Guide,the privileged, the cohorts,
Who solely take on massacres.
Being aware naught of the upshots,
spend their lives’ balance in jail.
“Lying there is not my kith or kin,
Needless to indulge, I, in the issue!”
Keeping this thought so brutal in minds,
Ensure the leaders their safety in abodes.
Static lies in the soil’s lap,
The parents’ dear one in utter silence.
Can we measure the anguish, mother’s;
With her, will live no more her son.
Faded away father’s support
And gone in astray mother’s
prop.
As torrents flow down tears
in pain,
Making their visages lie drenched.
The values are in a numb stage
and empathy and mercy as well.
Attains scarlet, the entire terrain.
One can sight there, scenes terrible.
Unease and anxiety gulp the vicinity.
Aves and animals search their perches.
Expresses Nature her censure full;
Packed it, she has, in her heart.
Unable to eye the unkindest act,
Escapes Sun striding to west,
With a weighty heart full of murk,
Slides, he to hide in the sea.
Wraths of dirty politics set these;
Wreaths and crocodile tears displayed,
And fake dirges and dramas staged,
O, pity! Any true mind, halt this killing.
