Grief

Grief is an addiction

When you have withdrawal symptom, your mind

Runs and shops it for you

Sponsored table

All I need is a sponsored table,

No, it’s not what you think

I have restricted access to the first love

:-)

:-)

When languages are Latin and Greek,

A smile solves the riddle, like magic.

It’s not necessary to understand every word,

As long as we listen to the singing bird!

While graphs and figures belong to the geek,

A roar of laughter eases all the puzzle-trick.

I am happy I wrote this.

18 October 2014

Imperfection

Imperfection

True, some images are in the middle of a blue

Nothing might sell as a colourful bluff

But the shades of sadness lie in the moist canvas anew

Imperfection buys the right to laugh

17 October 2014

Perspective

Perspective

Crowded bus;

Heads, first turning towards the trapped sky,

In search of air,

Then turn towards the ground,

Beyond the reach of sweats,

Eyes take them to the cars.

A car owner, inside fresh cool air,

Thinks of the monthly instalment traps,

On his left, a hearse passes by,

A flowered body with crying relatives;

His eyes on the right see an ambulance

Carrying a dying patient,

He thinks of anyhow

Coming back to life,

For then he will change his world.

17 October 2014

Doctors and engineers of poetry

Doctors and engineers of poetry

Hey you doctors and engineers of a breed,
Write what you want that your heart has to read.
Amuse yourselves rogues with the cut-paste rules,
With doctrines little dull that stare like the fools.
Your rules are so fixed that they cannot even limp,
You are covered with self you hired little pimp.
Poetry is not this? It is never ever that?
You must be married to a sick and meek brat!

It is here right with us, they’re unequal and same,
They sing and they cry, with or without shame.
Feeling that’s shy, yet brave on the go,
That’s just a little hint, you pseudo intello.
In verses that run without and within,
They’d better make some sense for your borrowed little grin.
Your eyebrows would rise to discard the game!
For you’d want to rule, with your willy-nilly name!

Listen up you there, you knotty dotty dud,
Let us also stay in our cosy little thud,
You go ahead and rot where your sickness would fly,
Liars that we are, we’d seldom comply.
Go wherever you want, with your breasts and your chests,
Our lines are not marked, unlike you and the rest.
You protectors of poems, you’re here to stink and rust,
We’d write about the nothings, we'd lick the brownie dust.

Now look at this here, just look at what I’ve done!
A set of rules so dry we’d throw and overrun!

16 October 2014

Doha

State of work

Everyone is working, laughing, playing

Boss, not proud, but worried about the job

Voice

Whenever the energy bundle’s voice rings

It sounds like a child, always, why

Yes, you are right

God is angry, revengeful; up in his arms to see you unsuccessful

Oh! Let me drink my coffee! Please?

Success

We are successful. Wars belong to the museums now.

Borders are protected from by the neighbours.

Personal

I kiss my lady. Onlookers pelt stones.

I burn her to death. Onlookers smell a personal choice.

Doha [normally in Hindi and Urdu], is a couplet with 24 instants (Matras) [13+11]. The rules for distinguishing light and heavy syllables are different in Sanskrit; In the Doha [English] I am trying to write, more than the rules, the message is important; couplet form is the only rule followed here. This is because, I am not a man of strict rules, I like rules when they function as banks of a river to mobilise its flow, nothing more and nothing less. Anybody can come and join in the river of Doha!

Pardon-garden

Pardon-garden

In the zone of icy thoughts,

Gatecrashers trying to break the berg,

In the game, they are swallowed in

Like the quicksand.

Mediocre thoughts of reactions,

Dominate the insipid mind.

Through the ages,

Blindness looks at the white shivering mirror,

How horrid that the word comes from the pen,

Forgiveness!

But yes, it is also forgiven,

You are a thirteen-year old,

Playing the role of a hero,

Without your muscles of sadness;

Flowers and fruits are hatching in the space,

Birds and bees are preparing to play,

Audience is horrified to see you kiss

A lady’s fun-balls,

So inappropriately out of place.

But like the spectators,

Swallow the word,

And the frozen waters, as you break open the gate.

You will also find your way

Into the overwhelming pardon-garden!

14 October 2014

sky

sky

I must have a place.

Somewhere!

For here, I have lost the sky.

Doors shut.

Windows closed.

I am not looking for light.

The indomitable, unstoppable

Light

Effortlessly pierces through the holes,

Like water

I stop my breath.

Yet through other holes life enters.

In these little streaks of leftovers,

Water that I cannot see, but hear

Moon is dead, Sun dying

Air floating,

Light is not enough to form my shadow.

I had a table where I read and wrote,

It has gone into the woods.

I am in a room, with no ceiling

Without a floor, with colourless air

That I figure as my sky.

13 October 2014

Oh mouse!

                                                                    Oh mouse!

Mouse stopped working.

Cursor is playing hide and seek

Sad-happy thoughts roaring away

In this game, the world stops.

Page has a blank look.
08 October 2014