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My City, Gen-Next, Slammed

I’m angry

Straight I tell you my friends I am angry now My anger could spit fire Like a volcano To chase away the grave centered vultures Hovering over my land
By Basanta Lohani

Straight I tell you my friends


I am angry now


My anger could spit fire


Like a volcano


To chase away the grave centered vultures


Hovering over my land


 


It is the greatest irony of fate


It is the greatest humiliation of history


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For the vultures are striking with their pointed beaks


To cut our motherland into parts


And, to snatch away the pieces.


 


The rulers created the ground


By their contradictions


Thus the discontent store piled


Oozing out of the bleeding poverty


For a combustible ejection


 


Igniting fire on this ejection


With a intent hidden


With logistics from outside


They have come.


Their greatest feast


Is to implant foreign body


Into our national life


 


Be aware masqueraded saviors,


The grave centered vultures.


I am angry, very angry


So will destroy your citadel of glory


And your power of doing evil


To the dignity of this land

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