I come from the land
Where always
The past is the present.
In a certain sense then,
India was independent.
On my land,
When you throw
A mango away,
A lush tree will grow.
Come see the tragedy
Then,
The seeds of men,
Dud in the hatred,
Giving rise only
to poison ivy!
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Published by
Arjun Kramadhati
This is me. As Charles Bukowski would put it - born like this, born into this. I don't like to talk about myself. I am afraid this is all you are getting now. I like to express myself through my poems, and stories and very soon another novel. I love you, my darling reader. So read on.
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