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The Great Deception - Adulteration They say food is life, a sacred thing, But poison’s hand has touched every spring. From fields to plate, a wicked game, Where greed is god, and health a flame. They grind our bones into flour so white, And water down the milk of night. With every bite, a death knell rings, As poison seeps into our very beings. No longer nourishment, but a slow demise, A silent killer, with devilish eyes. We’re cattle fed on tainted grass, Doomed from the start, a hopeless mass. ©Saurav Banerjee

Saurav Banerjee

#Adulteration #poem The Great Deception - Adulteration

They say food is life, a sacred thing,
But poison’s hand has touched every spring.
From fields to plate, a wicked game,
Where greed is god, and health a flame.

They grind our bones into flour so white,
And water down the milk of night.
With every bite, a death knell rings,
As poison seeps into our very beings.

No longer nourishment, but a slow demise,
A silent killer, with devilish eyes.
We’re cattle fed on tainted grass,
Doomed from the start, a hopeless mass.

©Saurav Banerjee

The Great Deception - Adulteration #Adulteration #Nojoto #poem poetry in english, poetry

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Prem Anand Nallathambi

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#existence #complex #Quotes #humans #simple

#existence #humans #simple #complex #Earth Humans - the masters of making things complex

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S V

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Earth

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Vivek Singh

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#life of earth without these things

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Shuvam

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Evolution of Earth

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Ajita Bansal

#Thinking White वो रास्ते भी क्या रास्ते थे,
जो हमें मंज़िल तक ले जाते थे।
कभी धूप में, कभी छाँव में,
हम चलते रहे, सफ़र के साथ।

हर मोड़ पर, हर इक ठहराव में,
मिले हमसे कुछ किस्से नए।
कभी हँसाए, कभी रुलाए,
वो रास्ते भी हमें सिखाते गए।

कभी ठोकरें खाईं, कभी गिरकर उठे,
मंज़िल की ओर बढ़ते गए।
वो रास्ते हमें समझाते रहे,
कि संघर्ष ही है असली जीत का रास्ता।

©Ajita Bansal

#Thinking poem of the day

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The Great Deception - Adulteration They say food is life, a sacred thing, But poison’s hand has touched every spring. From fields to plate, a wicked game, Where greed is god, and health a flame. They grind our bones into flour so white, And water down the milk of night. With every bite, a death knell rings, As poison seeps into our very beings. No longer nourishment, but a slow demise, A silent killer, with devilish eyes. We’re cattle fed on tainted grass, Doomed from the start, a hopeless mass. ©Saurav Banerjee

Saurav Banerjee