I have something to say

I have something to say

Days that have left long ago,

Come back as waves, and wet my feet.

Don’t leave us, is what I hear from them,

I have a cave of thoughts,

On the beach;

I throw them onto the sea,

Off and on;

They come back with the same tune,

As habits of moments,

Pleading and lamenting,

I see them as sands.

They were rocks of the yore.

I get onto my boat.

Wear the mask to breathe and take a deep dive,

The rock starts dropping down and down…

I am deep inside,

Hear no noise now…

Fellow creatures floating;

Deeper I dive

Farther I move from the noisy surface.

There is silence

Absolute, immeasurable in time and days

I have come to the bed now…

And in this liquid stability,

I see me settling down…

I see my home, like my mom’s womb,

From where I came when the waters broke,
Though I wonder on the need,

Moments pass, in floating admiration.

Time to return now, like the waves on the shore

I move up, and up, and up

I get onto the boat and see the land afar.

I have something to say to those pleading days,

I take off my mask to breathe again.

25 September 2014

Click

Click

The picture hanging on the wall

Of my mind,

Click!
I first blink at the blank,

My image of the scene visits

The strange place, with familiar tastes!

Distance worms and coils close,

Like semi-cooked noodles,

Waiting to travel into that same reluctant mouth

For good,

Click!

It has just returned from work with me,

With its necessity without volition!

Out there, with the hanging fruit,
What can I do?

How far can the hunger carry?

The long nights in the middle of the days,
Everything seems known, mundane
In my overcooked brain.

Click!
Yet its eagerness survives.

When the sun enlightens or darkens the east,

The recipe has trained me to think of the west,
Impertinent,that with all these marinated materials,

My tongue is tuned for a fresh course.
Click!

I know it's there somewhere waiting
Gathered raw, seasoned and cooked.
Like you,

Discounting everything that is frozen dry in the frame,

I am waiting to listen once more,

And recognize the sound!

25 September 2014

Yellow sun in the blue

Yellow sun in the blue

Yellow sun in the blue sea
Green trees on the meadows,

Without images in the sky!
Are these good enough reasons?
For a text to begin!
Tune is locked up in the shelf…
Beautiful picture dates with the livid word,
Crazy colour falls on a blank face and flirts,
Both focused more or less on the alternative.

Someone, from perhaps a corner of a dais hears.
Something resembling a voice, or just gibberish

Heard,unclear, yet drumming some sense
A moaning that could have some meaning of pretense.

Who'll go in search for the magic to work?
For words to come to terms with the real avid self

Untouched, uncontaminated,

What could have been different?

In other words, sounds as windy, breezy, and vague

Nothing is the same.

Let it go back…

Yellow sun in the blue sky

Green trees on the meadows,

Nothing remains the same.

24 September 2014

Death of an artist

Eyes and ears busy
Writing scripts,
Stories of delusion
Taking the artist away from the creative space

There's this freshness of time,
In a splash 
No clue, none at all of the text
Peeking at times at the slightest pretext

The stage, placed inside
Lost in rattling dialogues,
Like old beginners, singing in pain,

With disengaged organs

FIR on fire

In my country, FIR is on fire

Words like guns shooting out with force

Hatred and anger in a tireless intercourse

Peace is stillborn, thrown in ire

A union

A union

Your hands, a hanging necklace,

Surround me

Your face a pendant;

You are raining smiles from the earth,

My sky now green, quenched, a tad thirsty still,

Your self has gone into mine,

We are drowned in us.

Horizon has given up on stretching…

A flower is blooming on the leaf,

A handful of fragrance, its only existence

A dollop of air, like a forest

Is playing in between!

My head and my hands

Now your garland!

Breaths outside,

Gliding a merry-go-round

Tickling the throats,

A wish bounces from us,

From the mountain of moments

That showers the blue

Until eternity!

Let the earth sleep with the sky.

12 September 2014

You in I

You in I

You got me an elephant when I wanted a horse.
You took me to Paris when I was to be in Corse.

You drew me a picture I never wanted to see,

You left me in those chains when I wanted to be free!

I wanted a dip, so dear and clear, you never gave it to me,

The swimming game is sailing away in the ocean of sea.

When peace is what I want in here, why do you show me war?

Is it true I hid from you my treasured little scar?

Who is you and who is I O heavens tell me please,

All I want is be with you in a friendly ease!

The gap is there perhaps to show that listen has gone away,

When you and I are in the noise the silence how would stay!

Garbage of war in everywhere there’s poison in the air.

The horse gallops in land of Corse with sounds of peace so rare.

06 September 2014

Inviting metanoia

Inviting metanoia

Disgusted with the world;

What intelligence cannot turn the salty water sweet?

The liquid crisis will melt at ease.

Agonies of salt occupy the disbelief of sweetness.

No, say those prophets, please do not respect us

And keep us grounded in those walls,

Worship and chain those you replicate and emulate.

Wars will in to time cease.

Weapons scared of betraying bitterness.

Ah! How horrible those excess of food fed in the oceans,

Our guts do not put them into the mouths starving.

Hungers will freeze.

Poverty insists on feeding pockets of darkness.

I wish I had a lab where I’d invent air, water, light,

A meaningful machine that’d turn war into peace;

Would I be called intelligent if I didn’t enter into a fight?

Would the world cure with a whole lot of bliss!

06 September 2014

Note: Metanoia means a change in our mental model – a shift in the way we think

Holiday of lies

Holiday of lies

We walk on the ground that is flat,

And take sides in pairs,

With holy unholy hat;

See the sun set on the horizon,

The moon rise,

And the visible blue sky up there!

Everything we see and hear!

The truth escapes and denies!

O what a holiday of lies!

01 September 2014

A tableau in the making

A tableau in the making

Look at my palm,

Solid as a rock,

Your softness placed over it,

My world; you are leaning on my fingers.

The parts of your back stuck in between them,

You turn right and look down at me. Smiling, no stress;

As if you a feather I’d need soon to pen or fly!

But genuflecting, you turn around and look at me,

Now holding my fingers as your new-found window…

I ask you your eyes, those unmistakably yours,

What is it that you don’t believe!

Your lightness or my strength!

Watch me write now,

On what! You wonder.

About you or me! Pause.

I could be writing about us!

01 September 2014