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vikas chandra
Poems, Songs and More ……………..
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The Years My Father Stared At Walls
What A ‘Joke’ Is Literature In This World … !
A Shredder Worth a Billion Dimes
In The Blood Monsoon Of The Midnight Moon
Art Is Passion Baptized By Pain
Between Artifice And Art
Beauty Is Its Own Dialect
Solitude Is That Creative Clay
Colonists Avow – “We Are Not Racists !!!”
Thriving Thru The Thought-Quakes
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