Sunday, August 31, 2014

If I knew the line

If I knew the line

Oftentimes,
I wonder
About the honey and the sting;
A humming sound on the pages of time,
It goes, and comes back without a clock,
Measured and balanced.
From where does the need come?
A tune with blanks in space
If I knew the line
wouldn't fumble!

31 August 2014

When my shoulder is heavy

When my shoulder is heavy

I am under the words today.
Just like the other day.
When I didn’t figure,
I was investing my future in it.
They come to bruise,
My muscles and my arms,
I realize I wasn’t prepared for it
Like I won’t in the days to come
When my shoulder is heavy
They show up like these just like that

31 August 2014

Friday, August 29, 2014

The guardian angel

The guardian angel

I am the rainbow,
Standing as a border in between
The rain and the sun,
Asking them to stop the fight!

To clear their minds from the powerless thought,
Of how violent can they get with their flood and their drought!

As their child, I am here to tell the kids,
Of how they have energized and enlightened the world,
With their obscene opulence that only infinity can measure
In its brooks and meadows and in most everywhere,
As unmatched sources that have helped the world perfect,
That unnoticed leaf without care.

As a synergy I stand in between them
Their emergent property,
A colourful reminder,
I tell my parents not to be delinquents.

There! One power descends willingly from the seat,
For the other to recover from the moment of defeat!

I am the rainbow,
Standing as a border in between
The rain and the sun,
Asking them to stop the fight!

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Hunch

Hunch

My thought was tapping on the floor
It appeared to dance until I came close
I heard the knock,
With the pattern of the sound, measured with times
In silence, I figured what it was trying to say;
That I let it be on the ground!
But I have a history on my back,
Like a sticking have-a-sac,
At this, the sound changed its rhythm
So did the gaps…
I stretched my arms, my face, to the sky
I saw in it, the same scars blinking at me,
My thought still a fallen leaf,
On the ground, moving with them…
The bag now a part of the moment,
To be delivered, it needs to be severed,
All of a sudden the sound stopped
I tried to take a jump,
Gosh! I am with the hunch.

27 August 2014

In love

In love

When it was dark,
Crickets were playing with the fireflies,
Birds nestled in the trees,
Silver rivulets were flowing through the black meadows,
Floating a hello, a big one, a hello, to my arteries and veins;
A wind inside took birth and gushed out
Through my mouth, extending my lips to my ears,
And stayed in that obstinate state...
Amidst all of those silent movements light and sound,
I fell in love!
The known moon seemed new to me.

In the stars I never saw,
In the spread of flowers that never appeared so visible,
My hands are confused
Between choices of a ring or a pendant,
With jewels that are hanging up,
With the fragrance that is spreading around,
Which one to pick for what!
I am waiting for her to wake up to a new light,
For now, let me slip into a new dream.

27 August 2014 

Monday, August 25, 2014

the zone

the zone

Dark smoke has covered the surface,
Lust is lurking up and down.
The plane, nowhere to go
Is moaning in agony.
What kind of a violation is this!
A nomad, whose heat is burning like a furnace,
The floor is chained in space while the black bird
Is flying all over it,
Sticking and licking like a worm accused of action.
Series of cupid dark pride has taken over the muddy den,
Gone inside, deep, and spread all over the place!
The germ, a resident now has befriended the expanse
With its spell;
Some blades of grass, still remind the captured zone,
Of what and how it was!

25 August 2014

Hope and despair

Hope and despair

My hope and my despair,
Interchange between my table and my chair.
The table writes and the chair reads,
When one stops the other begins.

The chair links the thoughts,
The table connects the dots.
When hope flies in open arms,
Despair runs the deafening drums.

What I seek from them I don’t know,
Travellers for sure I see they are.
Sometimes they sit on the table and glow,
At other times they walk on the chair.

Reasons could be because I am young or old,
Or it could be because I am timid or bold.
It could also be for being black or white,
Most anything that goes as wrong or right.

I work all day running in and out!
Breaking free the tricky trap!
For moments I know what it’s all about!
When I truly find the hollow gap!

What a lovely pair they are,
A truly caring couple indeed!
If one is close the other not far,
Tied into my knotty deed!

Both in me this hope despair,
In and out they stay and travel.
I write on them from thoughtful table,
I read on them from charming chair.

25 August 2014

Friday, August 22, 2014

Travelling questions

Travelling questions

Am I standing on the ground?
Or is it standing on me!
I wonder as I walk around,
There’s much to learn and see.

Am I counting the days?
Or are they counting on me!
In a stage that checks and pays,
There’s much to learn and see.

Am I talking to the words?
Or are they talking to me!
It matters when we listen to us,
There’s much to learn and see.

In the tug of war that ties,
Measures and plays the game,
I see questions fall and rise,
On grounds that travel the same!

22 August 2014

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Just a little away

Just a little away

Drowned in the ocean of words,
The trained devil lived in me
For eons of years.
Old stories, flirted with the new –
An iceberg trained my cotton thoughts,  
Stuck in the mountain top, each time as clouds
Until they tore apart.
Lightness masked in light turned into liquid stiffness,
In depth and width;
Images went into the desert
To look for water.
Silent nameless objects had to listen
To the sandy salty silky mirror
Howling into hollowness,
Reluctant compulsion to form demons
To recognize, recall,
Yet surprised,
How corpses re-appear on the frozen zone!
Loud evil is a live note of being.
Now it ventures with a cracking tune.
The latent talent of needlessness to shape
With ears and eyes alive,
Floating in the air…
Arrive in the clearing.
Out from the jungle of weeds,
Just a little away, though
Neck deep in words.

19 August 2014

Friday, August 15, 2014

A song re-visited on our Independence Day


A song re-visited on our Independence Day

I was tensed with the tenses
Until I saw my senses
Change them, break the fences
I wonder if it ever could be sung without offences
There are some words here and there
Adverbs of time have changed them everywhere

Here goes the song on our Independence Day


We [have] overcome, we [have] overcome,
We [have] overcome [yesterday];
Oh, deep in my heart, I [now] believe, 
We [have] overcome [yesterday].

[We have seen] us through, [We have seen] us through,
[We have seen] us through [yesterday];
Oh, deep in my heart, I [now] believe,
We [have] overcome [yesterday].

We're on to victory, We're on to victory,
We're on to victory [everyday];
Oh, deep in my heart, I [now] believe,
We're on to victory [everyday].

We [walk] hand in hand, we [walk] hand in hand,
We [walk] hand in hand [everyday];
Oh, deep in my heart, I [now] believe,
We [walk] hand in hand [everyday].

We are not afraid, we are not afraid,
We are not afraid [any day];
Oh, deep in my heart, I do believe,
We are not afraid [any day].

The truth [has made] us free, the truth [has made] us free,
The truth [has made] us free [today];
Oh, deep in my heart, I do believe,
The truth [has made] us free [for sure today].

We [now] live in peace, we [now] live in peace,
We [now] live in peace [everyday];
Oh, deep in my heart, I do believe,
We [now] live in peace [everyday].


15 August 2014

Thursday, August 14, 2014

The seed

The seed

Tales of fruitlessness in the eating of fruits,
Nothingness in nothing is missing, since stories
Started to write in the minds of the bench seated blankly
Beside a flowing river;
No need is felt for the Seed to produce something,
In place of something,
The same child, born hundred years ago
Is dying in the same parent,
From the food to the shoes,
Cooked in the kitchen brain,
Is visibly mixing, though slow, from the surface;
Ketchup and seasonings, excess exercises on the externals,
Are matters that mouth-water the gray.

The bench in the goings-on of growth-death twins,
In the tracks of the parent and the child,
Is easily found;
Change without a storm remains the form
And the noisy course alone brings out the predicted saliva.
Hands of the clock in the externally silent mime-show do not move
During eating the eaten,
Or during the making of a birth, time pretends to stop.

14 August 2014

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Organs

Organs

Ears were talking to the eyes
Of histories, of horrors heard,
Broken bones with bodies of hearse,
Nothing could be realized except blood.
What eyes saw ears played in the see-saw game
Repeated blaspheme in the agonies of fame,
And the odor they sent, for the nostrils to smell,
Smokes from the drains kept stinking as hell.

In the scratch of borders with orders of war
They damaged, went howling as though fallen for the star,
The pairs fell sick still rhymed the grimace face,
With blisters of burns that embraced without grace.
All the painted drama in the canvas still hissing
Echoed just the same for the eraser was missing,
Where is the root, in the flesh or in the bone?
Thoughts kept singing in the tunes overthrown!

Freshness in the light with a palliative sound,
Will the organs witness as they wander on the ground.

13 August 2014

The most suitable place


The most suitable place

Where can we make love with not a little trace?
Bed is a known place, ah no not on the staircase!

Out in the field maybe on the beach?
Eyes will audience when they’d hear the screech!
How about the highway or that intersecting bridge?
Mocking honks will scream and looks will make us freeze!

Let’s go to borders and work it inside out?
An unsafe place it is with angry people around!
Then let us go there where people pray at peace?
With doubts in the air the scene is far from bliss!

Let’s go to the forest or that penetrating hill?
We can make it there where the act is not a sin!
Or better still the graveyard where senses beat and bloom?
Or let us make it there in our cozy little womb!

13 August 2014

Monday, August 11, 2014

Blinding blues


Blinding blues

Fruits of memories,
On the branches, in the trees
Morning moon, a reminder
Of an unwanted tool, visible afar,
Handicapped love has gone to search
For a better retrouvailles;
It is soon to be blessed with a boon
Of euphemism;
On the other side, the setting free cliché
Is a struggling fish, crawling towards a pond nearby,
The sky is breaking apart,
The noise is out of place.

11 August 2014

Sunday, August 10, 2014

In the interest of everything


In the interest of everything

If as a child, I could see me now,
I’d eat properly,
Study what’d please me dear,
Play to keep fit, not fight.
If as a teenager, I could see me now,
I’d not backchat with my parents,
My teachers, my elders, my neighbors,
If as a youth I could see me now,
I’d focus more on my work.
If now I could catch the time of my death
I’d do more of service,
On love, on a lot of things,
Instead of fighting with words, for words
With my unconscious breaths,
I’d also choose the place of my birth,
If I could do that with any of my worth!

Hey Science!
There’s a lot of work to do,
Instead of inventing arms of weapons
With pounds of dollars,
Conquer, connive, concoct and con.

If I could invent a machine for good,
That’d make people laugh,
Create oxygen in the thick air that pollutes and pains,
Track people who are starving for food,
I’d there with the machine create a rain of drinking water and grain,
Connect with children deprived, women violated,
Provide what’s needed instead of a technological bluff,
That which is in the interest of everything without a price inflated.

Hey Science!
There’s a lot of work to do,
Instead of inventing arms of weapons
With pounds of dollars,
Conquer, connive, concoct and con.

Think Science think!
On something that’s worth the link!
I know you know the poem of art!
Your smart brain’s not without a heart!

10 August 2014

Monday, August 4, 2014

In search of the huddle


In search of the huddle

Worlds that are born of the non-dual world,
Dwell in the minds that are blind and blurred.
Since the One is merged in too many ones,
The meaning is lost in the huddle undone!

In the faith that the world can never be destroyed,
Hats are hatching and heating in void.
Intelligence for sure can win us a way,
If that’s not butchered in pieces of clay!


04 August 2014

Sense on leave


Life grounded. Sounds of vehicles
Merge with cries of various classes and
Sameness shamelessly defeats the newness
of all kinds
Imprisoned in poisoned melancholy of frozen
thoughts
Icebergs are upside down smirking at the
mountains,
Silence measured, calculated.

On the other hand, leaves are drying up
Ponds, lakes covered with brown fatigue.
Sky laughs with innumerable teeth
Of basic hanging colors, white, black, gray,
Nothing rises above the focus. Faiths of
bullets, guns
And incredibly visible sharpness of arms
Are awed with respect from all corners;
Horizons have merged into a ball
Replete with the hunger of hired anger;
Known result of stagnation, starvation
Horror, terror has scrapped all other
Impotent words from the dictionaries.

Green leaves that dare to peek, rainbows
that connect
Troubled floors are royally ignored;
Dumped in the confines of writers
Never to be read or heard,
Creativity lies in the destruction of life.
The world that was born years ago
With a lot of care is all set to be
destroyed with intelligence,
On sabbatical smokes hibernates
the sense.


04 August 2014

Sunday, August 3, 2014

Every moment writes its own stories

Every moment writes its own stories

Some moments on their journey,
Utterly drowned
In the stories floating inside;
Since they had passed,
Like suns and moons of yesterdays,
They seemed distant, unreal.
During the crises of failures and successes,
Could not recognize
Them as evanescent seconds
As nights and days that would fade…
Distant wings overpowered the grounded feet.
Now on the crossroad,
The stretch lies to be seen in between
Stories that fly and those that walk,
But can this be prevented now;
Every moment writes its own stories.

03 August 2014