I am idle

I am idle.
Idle on a sun kissed yellow beach
watching the waves crash against shrill laughter
I am idle.

I am idle,
sitting at a long table
adorned with blood red wine
and carmine lips with flashy teeth
chattering on the world and its woes
I am idle.

I am idle,
staring at a screen
flashing numbers and news
with people around lost in their laborious lust
I am idle.

I am idle.
Idle witness of a road-side brawl
a woman lying with a wounded soul
oozing puss amidst a mad crowd
I am idle.

I am  idle,
only hero to the farmer in famine
pining for a drop of revival
calling out to me,
like a shipwrecked sailor
calls out to a distant light
but, I am idle.

I am idle to the man munching his meat
dragged by society,
wielding knifes and stones
butchering his bones
gouging his eyes
for holiness and hatred.
I am idle.

I am idle
tracing the stalker on the lose
enjoying his masochist moments
at home, at work, or on the streets.
Abusing the sari, assailing the burqa
assaulting the tunics and bikinis
while i stare into the abyss
as the skies become clouded with insecurity
I stay idle.

I am idle
at the resurgence of an ancient battle
galloping on a history of slaughter and revenge.
I am idle at ghettos and polarised minds
breathing fire into naive kingdoms.
However, I am idle.

I am vile, I am dying.
I am as idle as the devil.