Why is daddy dead?

Why is daddy dead?

Bosnia and Serbia,
The Balkans and the Falklands,
Burned with fires inside homes,
Beside streets where many an orphan roams,
And somewhere, some child in bed
cried, 'Mommy, why is daddy dead?';

From Jaffna to Kashmir,
Oklahoma to Chechnya and Prospect Mir,
War cries of grown men drowned out
the wails of a little girl, raped and tortured,
And a child asked his grand dad,
'Why is my sister feeling so sad?';

This army, that army,
Make lives of people stormy,
Migrants - thousands and millions,
Hungry for food, craving peace,
And an Afghan child, more a dead shell,
Could say nothing, but wished for things to get well;

The turbaned fundamentalists
from the plains of central asia,
chop off hands of thieves,
While innocent children grieve,
And the kid asks his daddy,
'Why does my mother have to sell her body?';

Somalia to Northern Ireland,
We have the guns and weapons,
The new age warriors are
fiercer than the huns,
And teenager sick of catholic-protestant acrimony kvetches to his God,
'You're a bastard, you sod';

The Africans have no food,
As bureaucrats sit on their arses and brood,
People everywhere die of AIDS as religious leaders debate,
Upon 'God's punishment' (AIDS) and their fate,
The child cries out to her mother,
'If you were dying, why did you bother (with me)?';

The chinese have an army renegade,
Their Generals have it made,
- From human rights abuses they do not refrain,
While the leaders ride the gravy train,
And the young girl is mum,
Wonders, 'Whatever happened to freedom';

The touts and pimps are everywhere,
Selling political mares,
Want to legalise your criminal works?
Pocket a politician, give him some perks,
As the idealist is sold for free,
A boy ponders, 'What about honesty?';

The fires in houses burn with greater ferocity,
As savages cut forests to add to their kitty,
Raping the earth has become a passtime,
And bribes made sure 'tis not a crime,
A child asks hid brother,
'How could you let them abuse the earth, our mother';

This world makes a desert utopian,
Oil sucked and burnt into oblivion,
People displaced for the greater common good,
And governments screw their people,
While this poet shouts at all who sold their convictions for free,
'Fuckers, get away from me!'

(c) 2001, Shaunak Agarkhedkar.
Comments to shaunak@gmx.net