Enemies Of The Civilized World Poem by Arvind Srivastava

They come,
with polished shoes and paper smiles,
thick books of rules in their hands,
sharp enough to cut the air.

The city's towering walls bear their testimony,
every brick inscribed—obey.
But the winds wandering the alleys,
the screams buried in piles of trash,
don't appear on their maps.

They call it progress,
yet with every step, forests burn,
rivers shrink,
and children count their hunger.
Wearing the badge of civilization,
they crush questions underfoot.

Those who speak,
their tongues are severed,
those who see,
their eyes are blindfolded.
Truth lies buried beneath their carpets,
while towers of lies gleam bright.

The enemies of the civilized world,
not those who come from outside,
but those who sit within,
dressed in suits,
pens in hand, coldness in their eyes,
weaving conspiracies to enslave every breath.