Broken veins still scream, the prose of pain
That ode to faith, and its bond profane
To the mayhem of life, wounded fest of death
Why in blood is written, its immortal shibboleth

Bloody collage of life, sprawled o’er spent belief
Virtue’s bloodbath caroused, in dogma’s fief
Vanquished innocence, slips and falls o’er its gore
More the merrier, deafening meats galore

Who holds that blade, upholds the faith
And coerces martyrdom, on a speechless wraith
A fiesta of blood, how any God defines?
Go ask bleeding beast, who whines and whines!

Death’s business done! Oh! Has the gala begun?
Jeers carnage Ali, now one, like father, like son
Rusted edge of knife, squirts faith’s stagnant flood
No matter whose life, if it bleeds, it’s blood!

© 2016 Vikas Chandra