(28 October / Lucknow (U.P.) India)

Sensex Down

East winds blow hot and dry,
another year crops fail,
Soon the count will be eight,
the east wind still prevail.

Devalued gold reserves,
so the once good credit,
One's back against the wall,
nothing left to debit.

Sweet waters flow away,
watering foreign lands,
Our Nation's people,
thirsty from their demands

Hands deal in hidden ways,
fill their pockets with gold,
The common hand dealt cards,
no way can win but fold.

Pockets of rich care not,
our gold pays their way,
The common man below,
barely survives each day...........

The sun burns all about,
East winds bring not a cloud,
We squint from withered shades,
trying to cry out loud.

Cracked lips and swollen tongues,
just too weary to try,
Last springs cooling waters,
slowly starting to dry.

The Face of Chaos grins,
within our Nation's walls,
Waiting for Panic's Face,
to start our Nations fall.

Man's history books may show chaos,
brought us such doom,
Hand writings on the wall,
pray winds of change come soon...........

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