I find the word funny

It has so many brothers


Like a competition,

A contest of speed,

Trying to be faster,

Better than others,

Aren’t we all in a constant

Battle of speed with others?

Aren’t we all trying

To be the first?

Well, it depends, on the race.


Yes, Race,

Like the colour of skin,

The language they speak,

One is clearly superior,

Or wait is it?

What makes one superior?

Who knows?

Aren’t races in constant war,

With words and swords,

With puns and guns,

Aren’t races trying to prove,

To themselves and the world

That they’re the best

Well, it depends, on the race.



Like nurturing,

Like moulding,

Animals, men, women, trees,

All are raised.

It is a good thing,

No questions asked, definitely,

A good thing.

Aren’t human beings and animals

Trying to raise their scions?

Aren’t trees giving legacies away?

Hidden inside a fruity exterior,

Well it depends on the race.



Like raising havoc;

Or is that raze,

Like razing cities,

Cities where there was good,

There was bad, definitely,

But good too, wedged within.

Aren’t there forces razing them?

Always, over land, money,

Or sometimes even for water?

Our most abundant resource

Sometimes for religion,

Sometimes for food,

Sometimes on a man’s whim.



What were you razing for?

What was the point?

To enter the thick history books?

To propagate religion,

Or to become one,

One bathed in blood,

One bathed in tears,

One bathed in sorrow,

One bathed in flames,

All the people,

People of all races,

People who are in races,

People who their kids, they raise,

All ended by a handful,

A handful that raze.


S. Narayanswamy