The colorful maggots squirm out,
With the touch of lotion slut,
Beneath the skin of the open flesh,
Of anything and anyone that have blood,
Eating the rotten meat, scavenging on the spot,
Make the host suffer in pain and discomfort,
The young of flies, established their hives,
Moving as the eggs of the frog and tadpoles,
The purpose of life has to be achieved,
The salvation for the sufferers,
The curse for the tormentors,
The pastime for the invisible heavenly creatures,
The men pray to them for medicated tinctures,
when the hobbies are the most needed psycho therapy,
the men want them to give up their primary activity.

veeraiyah subbulakshmi

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-pastime-of-them-and-the-suffering-of-us/