I Write What I Feel And The Way I Feel It. Poem by PARTHA SARATHI PAUL

My poetry opens her door to all of them,
Who are ostracized by the prissy kangaroo court!
I bring my poems up like me….
Not fastidious about sin and sinners.
If profanities become the part of informal chats,
And help to vent out huge bottled emotion;
Why then slang be debarred from entering poetry?
If poetry is real, it must be inclusive not exclusive.
Should poetry be only of elite class with so called high taste?
In our country some scholars feign to be proud leaseholders!
Truth is bare; naked: some love to drape it with own fashioned drapes!
Poetry is never for the kids who are not mentally adult.
Some of my poems are blatant blasphemy …..
Fanatics could price my head but I will rant...
Some of my poems are born savage and rude…
I never throttle their wild ugliness….
I never hide my real self behind sophisticated attire!
My poetry is my original skin not any bought or borrowed clothe!
May be this is why themes reach me from all corners of the world!
Like me my poetry is good or bad but ever true, true and true!
When art films welcome the hard reality into their scripts,
Why on earth poetry, the oldest art should lag behind?
Guess I am not watching Chotta Bheem on a poetry site?