Purple clouds, fires ablaze,
The atom danced profusely,
The soil around its feet got burnt,
The choreographer talked peace in future,
Peace! In invisible poisoned wombs,
Not in the beak of the pigeon white,
The reactor fumes coloured it black,
The black messenger flew around for fifty years,
Talking of peace with its
tearing talons ready to prey upon
anyone who won’t believe in manufactured peace.
Death centred on missiles privileged
blackened earth dark without peace,
A trauma of half century,
When thousand Buddhas smiled and feigned peace,
A peaceful country now becomes
more so with another noise underground,
And lo an earthquake endangers all
who had been made too safe by
the numerous stockpiles around;
The nuclear snakes,
which can bite for once and all,
Point now poison in an earthworm,
Why not? A few furrows by the latter
lay bare the hollowness beneath.
The nation that never hissed,
Only jumped like a rabbit under attack,
Now takes shelter in the steely womb,
which the python cannot digest,
Nor can play the cat and mouse;
And the mighty keepers of peace
go making floods of tears around.
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