Restrained clouds

I see clouds passing by.
Such gigantic beings,
Yet, quite quiet,
And inconspicuous,
Until one lifts
their head up.
The sun’s powerful rays, too,
Are blocked temporarily,
By these blobs of white cotton.
They pass by Syria, Iraq,
the US and the UK,
Hungary and Germany,
And even in dark
Scandinavia too.
Once in the US,
The clouds are waylaid
By none other than
the presidential incumbents,
Mr.T & Mr C.
Enter shall freely those
Who are as white as snow, or,
Proven Christians you are,
Mr.T & Mr. C,
Proclaim vociferously.
Dark and brown clouds,
Despite enough rain power,
And those who Speak
the foreign language A,
Shall not enter please.
The dejected clouds could not pass
over Hungary, or Slovenia,
For there was a fence.
The farmers in those lands died,
And the plants withered
For there was no shade or rain.
Or a respite from the dark days.

Seven Oaks, UK

The clouds pass by India.
The Hindu nationalist party,
inquires rhetorically,
if they were of
Muslim faith or Hindu belief.
Glibly convinces others,
That the clouds are Muslims too.
That they are shaped
Like tombs of a mosque.
Again the farmers died
And the land suffered,
And the ground water receded.
The clouds pass by Africa,
Where it was warmly welcomed,
However, the blacks, too,
yearn for being white at times,
For being black
Is a curse at times.
Even there, not many dark clouds
Could pass through well.
[Hence, Unilever’s Fair & Lovely
And other such bleaches.]
The clouds go from
place to place,
They are citizens of the world too.
Yet the nations,
Hold them to abide by
their rules.
An impossible feat to accomplish.
For they shall always be free.
The fury of the clouds
Is felt during the monsoons,
hurricanes and thunderstorms.
The rain lashes every
nook and cranny, so hard
That the same nations that
stopped them, begs them to stop.
When we will we ever learn?
When will we become intelligent?


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