<≪ A Call To Liberate Poetry

Come to the field where Blows only revolutionary wind Nick time six o'clock in the morning Tomorrow some of us are going To gather who never regard Poetry as a private affair Instead of taking breakfast Take few full morsels of fire To inscribe words with the letters of flame In the pages of pain of those Deprived men and women Binding each line with the rhyme Of burning hunger of every children To kindle the seed of justice long buried under In the lapel of war and oppression Each poem has been held hostage In the hands of personal whims and wishes Instead of a pen or a pot of ink please bring a match box and I will come with an iron hammer After breaking down the walls of bondage We all revolutionary poets Set them on fire and recite them To offer at the feet Of every corporate slave And bonded labor (to be continued)