Let's Act Rebel

I'm not writing this cos I'm a dreamer
It's for a cause to throw some beamer
If you read this do think once, may be twice
If you want peace, we need to organize

When I look at the globe it sounds boom
But people are hungry, running for zoom
They do everything be it good or bad?
World is getting dirty we all are trapped

Life has taught us lot many acts
Good things exist to keep us on track
But we all are thirsty for sex and blood
Innocents are dead they can't even shrug

We all have onus in our name
Let's act rebel, forget about fame
The gal is gone but time has not
Bullies should be hanged tight with knot

She must have screamed crying in pain
Begged predators, while she was drained
Her agony didn't shake their monstrous soul
They slashed her organs, to attain final goal

She must have felt so cheated and so alone
She must have thought about her lost crown
She couldn't talk to anyone anymore on this
Even beloved be ashamed and won't love this

She is a statistic for a heinous crime
She is everywhere from roads to shrine
Some might say this kind of rape isn't as bad
Her rapist are free instead being dragged

No one wants to discuss this rape.
No one wants to put it for talk.
No one wants to admit the blame
All are busy playing wicked game

We gather in protest for day or two
Then let go anger which makes pimp true
Globe is getting brutal in from of our eyes
We need to demolish this with all our voice

Dictators are king, we are scums
This is all because we keep mum
We need to rise up, put some light
Take the vengeance, prove our might

Media-educated drones are active for TRPs
Cannibals are treated more like artist
We all are puppets that's the only reason
Slaughterers are on streets not in prison

Political parties are dumb, deaf and so fake
Promises are fictitious and only for namesake
We need to gather and pose true threat
Hooligans wouldn't be dead if we act straight

Dark eyes on us are trailing from behind
We never see them as they speak divine
By raising a voice we can just yelp
Swords will do things and bring us help

by Kishor Pathak

Comments (4)

I have grown tired of Billy Collins for some time now. In this poem, as in so many others of his, he takes a simple fleeting thought we've all had a million times and works it up into an artificial and unmerited verbal lather. It's very annoying. Reading the poem, one gets the thought that the original impetus for the poem- or what passes for one- was hardly worth even the thinking, much less the verbiage hung onto it. It's annoying, the thought that we are being asked to spend so much time for so little aesthetic profit. And the language is simplistic because the thought is simplistic. Come on, Billy! I expect more than this from a poet laureate!
Thanks, Michael, for the correct full version of the poem! (box below)
.......what an imagination...an incredible write for the love poems of Ovid...
I Go Back To The House For A Book (Correct full version) Billy Collins I turn around on the gravel and go back to the house for a book, something to read at the doctor's office, and while I am inside, running the finger of inquisition along a shelf, another me that did not bother to go back to the house for a book heads out on his own, rolls down the driveway, and swings left toward town, a ghost in his ghost car, another knot in the string of time, a good three minutes ahead of me — a spacing that will now continue for the rest of my life. Sometimes I think I see him a few people in front of me on a line or getting up from a table to leave the restaurant just before I do, slipping into his coat on the way out the door. But there is no catching him, no way to slow him down and put us back in synch, unless one day he decides to go back to the house for something, but I cannot imagine for the life of me what that might be. He is out there always before me, blazing my trail, invisible scout, hound that pulls me along, shade I am doomed to follow, my perfect double, only bumped an inch into the future, and not nearly as well-versed as I in the love poems of Ovid — I who went back to the house that fateful winter morning and got the book.