I spit on me

I spit on me

the hands that held me fed me once
are itching a body so fragile with germs
it was worthy for just a glance
whom my bro and I would know as mom
medicines are shooting inside her now
of no use at all we know not how
she's lying alone on a hospital bed
we're wishing with love so she's dead
how horrid is this to see those hands
the body that's dying to come to us
I have no words I spit on me
I kick my *ss I let her be


she changed her costume on Sunday 24 November at 5.35 a.m.

my mother didn't want to die...she wanted to go to Darjeeling...

when I wrote this poem, my mother was still struggling to live, her heart was still beating... sad that medicines couldn't help...kilos of them... I saw my mother as an on-looker...unable to do anything... I wonder if ever we could come up with some healing medicines which can cure a failing liver kidney lungs... there's so much to do

at the temple gate

Urchin fakes its limp
Trees full of monkeys hungry
Temples smell of thoughts 

diamond dews

Dews drop meadows wet
Sound mild moments most unheard
Diamonds preserved dry 

what the world needs now

what the world needs now

If only we could sit at the table together,
Chalked out a plan with an open mind,
Pardoned writers for stabbing the scriptures,
Forgave the slayers and those naysayers,
With one single goal which would be to find
And make ways for all peace ventures!

If only we could talk it out once and for all,
Leaving the cruel child in us we'd perhaps see,
How easy, how easy, how easy it would be
To erase the lines and marks of all those knotty scars
That histories have written over the bleeding years;
Our winter could meet the spring and the fall!

O leaders; with your hands and minds so tied,
Take the step your fans are waiting to see,
The debts of the past to be smoothly rectified,
The world and its people though different, unified.
Children so worried are waiting to be free,
The table is waiting for adults to be!

foolproof

Saplings sail away
Desdemona dies in doubt 
Sita storms to prove 

vacant look

towering buildings
empower enable us
in jungle of words  

water

water is flowing
tears, rains, waves all from the source
we see, see and see 

perfume

Raindrops fall on mud 
No one could bottle the smell 
And sell buyers wait. 

unsold

unsold

Ten years have passed, ten years ago. 
An afternoon after school was stolen, 
The Sun would come and fall on the compound, 
Kitty the cat and Dotty the dog, with children, 
Would play with a ball that ran into the ground, 
Time and again, until it was time to go. 
  
Kitty and Dotty died with the elders, 
Those who played in the afternoons have left. 
The school is now full with other kids, 
The house is there, though everything theft 
With time, that wasn’t there, like now, insipid; 
Some step-marks are walking like offenders. 
  
Mr. and Mrs. X’s palace who wouldn’t know! 
Standing with grace with dignity and style, 
Where lives like leaves fell off from the Tree, 
Kingdom of excesses sleeping in exile, 
As one by one, the children went free 
In some years that went, not so long ago. 
  
Adults, Kitty’s and Dotty’s mates, with clients do arrive 
The house is big, nice, they say, but no one wills to buy. 
They have given up all hopes; to everyone they’ve told 
The house will stay like this it will not be sold. 
  
The same afternoons with Sun still come and go. 
In the house full of lives a little long ago. 

My pen weeps in weapons

My pen weeps in weapons

My pen weeps in weapons, 
Smiles in all the flutes, 
Screeches out to morons, 
Who destroy all the roots! 
  
My pen weeps in pages, 
Prays for all who live, 
Brutes in us for ages, 
Image we don’t believe. 
  
My pen weeps in weapons, 
Laughs with all soldiers, 
Heals the troubled demons, 
Hiding so much in us. 
  
My pen weeps in fields, 
Cries and sings a song, 
Killers killing the killed, 
And losing all along. 
  
My pen weeps in weapons, 
Shares its gathered wisdom, 
Hurting only weakens, 
The bond so tall winsome! 

being in it

being in it

My arms are holding yours, 
No stress just fingers stretch, 
Twenty of them are singing and dancing, 
Nothing to prove, nowhere to go, 
Just a day or a night so slow, 
Our hard and soft chests touch, 
They just do without talking much, 
We stand we sit we kneel and we fall, 
The holes are full as a whole for the ball, 
With push and pull, 
No one knows who’s taking whom, 
It’s never so done yet all so full, 
We’re sailing and dancing in a liquid room, 
Continue we do and leave no trace, 
In the space that had a myriad embrace. 

We're coming to you

We're coming to you

When human beings will  
Take on to the red planet and 
Leave the Earth of water and sand? 
The unlivable Earth, molested with wars so ill 
Could then breathe!  
Mars, poor Mars; little do you know  
We're coming to you, with our bow and arrow. 

nature within nature

nature within nature

An abandoned place.
Trees with flowers
Bliss round the corner
Silent with plenty of things
Nothing meant in the mess.

Nature doesn't preach
It's in the nature
Often beyond the reach
Left with grace,
An abandoned place.