I'M Neither A Runner Nor A Winner Poem by Aftab Alam

I'm neither a runner nor a winner,
‘Tis not for me, I'm not for this race,
Worried for b'fast, lunch and dinner,
Glorifying only Lord, it's His grace.

Must praise this world with its beauty,
Everything, is with the great importance,
Caring the true painting, is not our duty?
Why are we spoiling to self, for instance?

Struggle for peace is holy; a straight path
Killing innocent is the Lord's doom-wrath
Divinity within us, is lost in our ugly-self,
In spite of being human, we became an elf.

Need to be supreme, a desire, a satanic act,
They're cursed body with wounded soul, in fact.
Hidden Phantom animosity with peace call,
Drenched with darkness is a fatigue furious fall.

This world is an absolute balanced one, and so
Its inhabitants, living or non-living, search, find!
Why are we unbalancing this world? Can't see, lo!
Heaven's shadows, always with us, are we blind?

I am bleeding; my canvas is red, thirsty people
Around, thirst for the plasma red, they drink,
Death Dinner and dance, lying skull, dry apple,
Dark -dignified, curly- curse, full, up to the brink.

Humanity is crying, peace is dying
Devils are trying, sowing the seed
Of hatred, for red faith is cursing
Leaving body to decay, soul is perching

None but He knows the truth of the brute
Justice is my hope from sky, a lovely flute.
All innocent who died by the evil terrorist,
Their soul may rest in peace, my humble salute