From method to madness

 The moon was a joy to watch

And hold the loved one close

Promising the moon for a kiss .

Kids were fed to fill by happy mothers

Showing the moon and the cow

Floating above in the story book .

The myths turned to mud

With Armstrong and his first step.

It took two to make a baby, born

Of love and duty bound as one.

One to share love feel joy

The other to keep the family

Tree alive with fresh branches.

The  test tube and the surrogate

Mother bought for a fee made

Birth no more a labour of love

But a product made to order.

Men were brothers and friends

And  one woman to another

To lend a shoulder or share a smile.

But turning gay now dirtying the word

That bought joy before,seek

A roof to live in marriage too.

A life where insecurity will go

But a generation will stop.

To feel the dawn and sunrise

And birds heralding another morn

Is but what days were made for

As nights were to rest a weary

Body or a happy one with filled

Heart and stomach. Now nights

To fill the purse turns to working

Hours and body’s clock reversed.

Women bear this brunt to survive

Delay marrying and bearing
The baby that an impoverished

Life cannot support after her

Wants are met.Hectic travel

And work drains the body

And when time for baby comes

Normal route an exception,

Caesarian order of the day.

With clones waiting in  the wings

DNAs duplicated, death

Diminished,with longevity

Having long innings. God

But has to balance inflow

And outgo, am’bush’ing the many

Innocents with war,and dust bin laden

With terrorists rooting to kill

And natural disasters to boot.

~ T S Gopal ~

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