In conversation with...

In the middle of changes,

The mind is armed.

Unable to deliver from the chains

A slippery surface, a bond

To win is to kill.

The intelligent brain with unmatched skill

That could bring heaven from the sky

Is hurting the earth with wrath and wry,

In chain is the constant destiny

Not changed a bit has our wailing history.

Good leaders of the world,

Old leaders of the world,

New leaders of the world,

Bold leaders of the world,

Guns are for those insecure and scared

Don’t flaunt them, benumb them

Stop this destructive expensive game.

They’re for those helpless cowards

Step in, we need you, come forward.

Join us for a change, please listen to us

Good and old, new and bold leaders

Follow the drum that beats too in your hearts.

An appeal by the peoples of this star

A cry from all the countries without bar

Is to re-build the world with gumption and sense,

Kill the need to scythe with our creative intelligence.

We want a no-weapon world,

A weapon-less world, a weapon-free world,

Focus, our leaders on this timeless troubled floor

Don’t create and market those killers anymore

Stock them now for good in their only asylum

Freeze them now with care in the new museum.

All countries will have one sacred little space

Where heartless treasured arms would coffin all in grace

Flags would fly on top, hum a different unsung tune

That was hiding in the hearts, in the depraved morn and noon.

Those museums, our children would visit and say

‘Once upon a time, we used these to kill and slay

We are out of it now thank goodness

We won’t get killed anymore, good riddance.’

...

Why did you write this poem in my mind?

What is your intention I don’t understand

That which repeats with organs mute and blind

To bring about the change on this history’s land

Do you think it’s possible? This miraculous magic!

Of course yes it is, the hearts are waiting to click

It cannot happen with might, it cannot happen with force

Would happen if you please, by tapping the constant source

You may call it love or by any other name

Present in all of us, in ways just the same

With the peoples of the world, the real power lies

From enemies everywhere, friends will smile and rise

Lively arms would stretch and inert arms will yield

For those who lied on streets, and those who died on fields

Tired objects would rest in silent museum

Minds would all be free, from the insane asylum