The drama

Nobody, like you.
Nobody likes you.

let sanity prevail

let sanity prevail

above everything else,

wars win wide awake,

fake words end in weapons, arms

gibberish peace in perpetual slumber, fails

let sanity prevail

let sanity prevail 

the unknown

nobody knows the secret, 

nobody knows the mystery, 

hankering desperately

for power, and respect, 

with weapons, and words, 

garbage all over the world, 

a dead end

closing all trajectory

the spiritual and the material 

spaces, the learned ignorant

schools, fighting like rascals

and fools, debris of insipid

ideas filling the sultry air

with more of dirt, bringing in

violence, intolerance, 

breeding filthy hatred, 

its scarlet results

re-read in history

everybody poses to know the secret, 

everybody seems to know the mystery... 

end to end

  

the darkness covering
debris of darknesses,
a jeopardizing journey where
destruction is the destiny;

despite inventions, discoveries,
changing versions of technologies,
notwithstanding volumes
of novels and stories
pouring from the fertile spirit;
the crippled mind is lagging far
behind, as a homicidal habit;

blind, it cannot see the light,
it refuses to see the end,
the world in peril, as a trend
it’s taking notes with tools like
pens, papers, and pencils
forming and deforming words;
the gap between intentions
and actions causing multiple
earthquakes, volcanoes, wars,
forests on fire tonsured;

we seem to be in love with
enlightenment but invariably
choose the false friend,
the most trusted darkness
in full cognizance

the sun, the moon, and
the other stars, unable
to save the disintegrating
planet; we’re all united
to molest the matchless nest
the shelter we didn’t discover,
it was a gifted toy
we’re eager to destroy

The global migraine

the nation's strength

is not in its arms, 

it's in the way it grows

crops in the farms;

it's the food the matters, 

not the food-snatching wars;

throughout the world, 

albeit technologies tried

the farmers commit

suicide, one wonders why

the tv channels across

europe, the americas,

australia allure the

unwilling ladies to

espouse the farmers;

in the punjab of india, 

where wheat is in 

abundance, over 9000 

farmers in 18 years

abandoned their lives; 

one ponders

if the money is 

in safe hands, or if it's

going for a toss;

consumers though 

are willing to pay more

in France's 'Who's the Boss'. 

Note: 'Who's the Boss' is a name of a milk product in France where consumers were asked to pay more so the proceeds reach the farmers. More than 13 million consumers supported the movement. 

forget it

from the heart
I write my lines,
they have no art,
they carry no lies,
except for the wish
in me
that's never to be

just forget it

those who do not see
where they went
so terribly wrong,
how on earth will they,
they had never bent,
always sold their wrongs
as the solitary right as
they reaped, marched along,
protected their stance
with all their might,
shown how they're united,
strong, the delinquents,
the real cause of all the
wars will forever be defiant,
blame Tolstoy, Hori, and Rumi;
albeit their measures
o those terrible
white elephants
lost in the overdose
of blowing their trumpets,
their verbose rants

they will never be
an inch away from
their painful position
so naively staunch;
we might talk about
a shift a myriad times,
new humane methods
we may launch, but the
change in the standoffish
language they blabber
will never ever unchain
to let an alternative way
come into fruition 

The law of the world

The laws of the lands
violating since donkey’s
years
the law of the world;
the destruction hides
without shame
behind the horrendous
blame game;

safeguarding the world
should now wittingly stand
front and center;
not blunder with a
delinquent banter,
an insipid gesture
as it were, to overpower
the neighbor;

no, as 'neighbor'
is but a word,
it cannot be paged,
nor read, without
the flawless world;

all the countries, not
a handful of a kind,
should unite and band
to put at the helm
the law of the world
hitherto undiscussed,
unheard,
above all the selfish
laws of the lands;

none should exercise the
right to impair the soul
of the soil, to pollute 
the air, the pristine water, 
flora and fauna, 
the goods of the star
molested by the nincompoops,
the flibbertigibbet, the fools, 
to be tutored in a holistic, 
a well-founded school, 
notwithstanding their coo;

to not dismantle any
construction that hurts
the earth so forgiving, cool,
to be delivered as the 
sole ground rule. 

What's up?

If you're feeding the
victims with weapons,
what are you doing
my friend? Wars all
over the place, killing us
from end to end;

if you're keeping the
strife alive, when will
the monsters, the
warmongers die!

All the countries of the
world? Unable to stop
one? So powerless?
Helplessly delimited by
rules? Still listening to the
laws of the lands, when we
should obey one law, that
of the world? Can't we hear
the wailing of the soil?
The refugees, the soldiers,
and those discombobulated
stakeholders?

When our knees are
in pain, we’re biting our
elbows, in vain, all in
vain; we're unable to
unite and desist the
deadly deal;
if countries fight,
how on earth
will the world heal!

Beyond impression

I can hear her footsteps

on the stairs, in the kitchen, 

in the garden, in her bureau; 

I can listen to her, 

a hummingbird, strict

with the kids, their father, 

and the pets; 

I can smell her, 

a melange of food, 

continental and local, her 

signature trace, and 

that of Christian Dior, 

Angel of Thierry Mugler, 

Hugo Boss;

If I try hard enough, I could 

even figure her sitting beside 

me, talking to me, overlooking 

my insanity and the world of

disparity;

my eyes could ignore

the celebration of 

family pictures 

hanging on the walls.