Rajneesh, the running brook!

I know you're born of a mother, That's why I call you human brother. You shall sure have a human father, Where you lost thy love & feelings further? O Terrorist Brother! O Terrorist Brother! What's about thy blood, air, water & food? Have they made you just lifeless wood? Have you even digested thy human-heart? Can't thy eyes see natural beauty & art? O Terrorist Brother! O Terrorist Brother! You're the killer of millions kind mother, Your God also needs her & a pious father. Which region & religion you wish to form? Is murder of humanity thy God's norm? O Terrorist Brother! O Terrorist Brother! Which bloody business have you begun? Instead thy holy book, held unholy gun? Which heaven's gate made of murder? Which nectar comes from deads' border? O Terrorist Brother! O Terrorist Brother! Which God asked you to kill humanity? No God 'llbe formed without morality. Killing  humans means  killing t

I saw the dream of rural India; An honest farmer's honest deeds & idea. Oh! But it's very tough to believe the trust; The man loved mother-earth & its crust. I know dreams are product of thinking, But it was strange as I never such song singing. Anyway, that darling dream was mind blowing; The white bearded man was cultivating for seed sowing. The soil of the field seemed grinned like flour; The old & lin,white-dhotied farmer looked like weathered flower. He had used his all pure might & power, His face looked like a fountain of sweating shower. The field looked levelled like with butter. He was prophet,saint or something better. The two white bullocks too seemed pious; They looked like the same goddes s Parvati's choice. Was Lord Shiva himself standing in the farm? Or he was a helping hand against human harm. The bullocks near farm started grazing green grass; Heathy wheat seeds were peeping through the glass. First