The Little Man

a little man who yearns for power and even kills for it, but remains insecure, powerless and incomplete eternally.

Piles of bodies lying on each other,

hands and legs, heads and hips,

As if discarded from a factory floor,

Incessant eternal buzzing of flies,

and smell of rotten meat.

Mannequins scattered on the road,

they used to breathe it seems,

A scarlet doll and a blue toy car,

but no kids who played with them,

oh found them, charred black,

is it a set of a war movie,

the mind doesn’t want to see the reality,

death and destruction abound,

it’s barely keeping its sanity.

Have people stopped asking why,

most don’t ask, a few who do,

may be they don’t look deep,

and all this mayhem will continue,

till they don’t address the root.

Does someone enjoy this,

Or is he scared,

why is the ego restless,

why is the little man doing this,

Did he start now,

Oh no, going on for eternity,

But isn’t he civilised now,

Oh that’s just clothes and computers.

He is just another animal,

ready to pounce on slightest hint,

But he pounces in civilised ways,

he eats flesh with a fork now,

And he devours his fellow humans,

bit by bit, unseen, eating away their soul.

Oh most of them are like this,

they just don’t get the opportunity,

And the dog fights continue,

The back bitings and the betrayals,

the takeovers and the usurpings,

The manipulations and the machinations.

Man is a dangerous animal,

Because he thinks to kill, win, fill his emptiness,

And still dies thirsty,

Still grumbles and mumbles on his deathbed,

Still his mind shudders like a sick man,

He ponders and acts, 

believing he will get peace, security externally someday,

He kills millions sometimes,

But never does he find peace and rest.

Oh the sad little man, the mad little man,

so beautiful could you be,

oh the potential you had,

Oh you floundered it away,

Oh I understand you and I feel bad for you,

For you can’t see what’s inside you,

You can’t listen to your heart,

You suppress the little calls for help,

you kill the beauty of your heart,

You kill yourself.

And you don’t even know it.

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

Yes, these little men do have their delusions. I can think of one who believes he can remake the old Soviet Union.