GDP

GUESSED DOMESTIC PRODUCT (GDP)

GDP?

Are gospel truths or old government fables

Are mirror reflections

Literally inverted figures

Echoes bouncing off the seabeds straight outta the ruling house.

From the  dark depth of the treasure trove subterranean

The national spoils laid up for the worthy righteous.

GDP?

Are like mirror images

Identical twins created by the financial artists

They say - the image of the nation is forecasted

On whether the saplings have grown an inch taller or wider

Or developed economic muscles to edge out their contemporaries competitively.

GDP?

Are sound vibrations

Resonating heartbeats per minute pulsating on the health of the nation.

Digital simulations of a pathology...or a physiology of a collective national treaure chest

A temperature scale of the heat on the street

The friction in the air the people breathe

The tensile stress levels in the marketplace

Of the real life expectancy of molecules agitating in shells

The life of ordinary people.

GDP?

The diagnostic panorama

Of the basic right to the pursuit of happiness

To a dream of parity

Of balance sheets and the legitimacy to the national food basket

Of ecological footprints and imported vitamins. Of a tomorrow to look forward to.

Lately,

The state-of-art sceptre is broken

suddenly the mirror images makes no sense

Like everything in reverse

Abnormalcy turned to normalcy.

Lately,

The reflections in the mirror looks wildly enchanted to be true

It gives a different tableau of a nation's overlay

Of the ghost of yesterday that would not rest in peace

An immutable picture of the boon days

The days when hypertrophied cows fed on their anemic neighbours.

Lately,

The GDP is a faulty accelerometer

poised at a clamped velocity

A polygraph that says 'Yes' when it means 'No'

From the ruling house

A fable of lies told too many times

it is the only truth

Of the heartbeats that sound sweet to the ears

yet it is surely ripples in troubled waters

Of the fact that despite how beautiful the mirror reflections are

the heat...the friction...the stress

are still agitating the mass of molecules in the streets

in their shells

Zombies piling in hospital wards and morgues from the thrones to throes of society

Of strike actions everywhere

Of a trend econometric-ally deceptive

a lore of pathology in the general polity.

Lately,

The creation of a conclave of master spin doctors

surgically mislead

while the incidence of unemployment sky rockets to a unbearable stifling heated ball

the inflation rates continues to elude the memory of the calculator

Debts piling like dirty linens.

The GDP

Lately,

are like birth dates deftly plagiarized,

they remain stubbornly rooted like the immutable earth

To accommodate a general apathy

a tepid stagnancy in the seabeds of the ruling house.

The GDP

lately is an art

Art works are as imperfect perfections

Their creator deliberately make them so

Right to look left

and what seems wrong right...