We Are Third World

Self acclaimed first world labelled us as
third world in their so called socioeconomic indexes and
other “modernity is the real development” indices,
because we don't do dinner parties but dream of a well fed day

Our children study on the floor of old public school,
Know the other world only by the greenery
and figures hung on its pale walls, 
Wishing to run on the velvet grass instead of
rag picking every morning, as children leave
old toys, you have abandoned us

Here a teenager recognises outline of a dark futuristic structure 
in a pattern of present dots of daily burdens, 
In the tragic repetitions of a homeland song,
he dreams of a young entrepreneurship 
but a termite death hollows out his roots of endeavour                                                                                                                                   
You say to our men “Keep It In Your Pants!" 
and women, "Lock Your Knees!"            
but here sex is the only amusement,
For a three minutes of relief we are ready
For corruption and immorality, 
Although some taxable souls fashion to run charity,
the poor wears tattered clothes,
Rich wear them to look different,   
There is an agreement between the people
sitting in the car and poor begging for some help

Devalued lives full of shadows of slaves,
as poverty live without evacuation,
Caught in web of the foreign aid spiders,
we prop up this capitalising protuberance 
and force feed the bourgeois class,
Our propaganda has become
just to see, sigh and cry

Blindfolded by civil war, a source
of political life and death,  
We fail to understand the kind of battlefield
we are in and our weapons to deal with it,                                                                                                          always shouting for freedom of expression,
Never tried to know the difference between 
our skin and our lips

A divided country that sighs and cries for debt relief,
Brainwashed by anti-propaganda,
As leaders becoming millionaires every second
and the people poorer every minute,
The land filled with milk and honey,still cries "no money”

Self styled media with fake morality, 
Aiming for PR and controversy
interview a petty thought repeatedly 
to make it a philosophy,
Their voice spreads pure venom in gentle dress,
in the name of so called minority,
Every news is labelled with religious stamp, 
They highlight the immoral as a face of nation,
belittle the good-intentions

Sex and violence is a new form of entertainment, 
Here big lawyers and corporations openly
influence in the demo-crazy capitals to gain huge profits,
Is this injustice with poverty and suffering
not a clear indication of false thoughts that
argue over a third world at this juncture?

by Sandeep Kumar Mishra

Sandeep Kumar Mishra is a Bestseller author of “One Heart- Many Breaks-2020”, An outsider artist, a poet and a lecturer. He is a guest poetry editor at Indian Poetry Review. He has received  “Readers Favorite Silver Award-21”, “Indian Achievers Award-21”,IPR Annual Poetry Award-2020 and Literary Titan Book Award-2020.He was shortlisted for “2021 International Book Awards”, “Indies Today Book of the Year Award 2020” and “Joy Bale Boone Poetry Prize 2021” and “Oprelle Rise up Poetry Prize 2021”.He was also “The Story Mirror Author of the Year” nominee-2019.