Treasure Island

Venkateswaran Krishnan Sreenivasan

(JULY 14,1935 / ERNAKULAM, KERALA, INDIA)

After me what?


Nature’s wheel will turn and the seasons come and go;
The crops will grow and the rivers flow;
The blossoms, before the dawn their bosoms bare
And the birds on the birch trees chirp for those who care.

The rose will keep its scent, the bee its sting,
The cat its purr and the dog its growl;
The rich will stretch out the dole, the poor their bowl,
The citizen stays a slave, the ruler the king.

Wars will be fought by nations who fight
To assert their rights and supreme might;
Millions will be maimed and millions will die
And millions of children destined to cry.

Tsunami, floods and quakes will recur
And cause untold agony and deaths to occur;
No doomsday prophet will predict the fury
Of these Nature’s disasters gory

Man will thirst for power and pelf
All focused on his petty self
He will hunt after the game of fame
That will remain in an engraved name.

Our fragrant little kids we seduce
And sully them by neglect and abuse;
These wasted buds are cast like refuse
To die and decay or live a recluse

Men and women will masquerade
With the mask of genius, saint or sage;
Their fame and glitter with time will fade
And newer demigods will come of age.


Man will like fine tuned robots rove
Robbed of his inner instinct of love
To attain his self centered goal
Devoid of the spiritual soul


Violence, mayhem and murder
Will violate our cherished norms and order
Will the Almighty descend from heaven in order
To set the sinning world in order

The earth will change, its nature and all
By what in life we do or not do at all
The dust we leave will be food for foliage
After us what? Sure, not the deluge

Submitted: Thursday, November 21, 2013

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