In search of...

I am in search of a pair of hands,

Who can bring the world to a screeching halt

Drown the countries into irrecoverable fiscal loss

Where growths and developments would disappear by default.

I condemn all wars.

I condemn all condolences.

I am in search of a pair of eyes,

Who would severe from us those insipid lies

Show us how we failed those hard-earned profits

Clouded our intelligence, and declined peace.

I condemn all wars.

I condemn all condolences.

I am in search of a down-to-earth mind,

Who could bring to book our unforgivable fault

To flaunt power with weapons of every kind

To dote on the enemies whom we with pride assault.

I condemn all wars.

I condemn all condolences.

I am in search of a leader who’d stop every work,

Would lead defaulters into all countries’ jails

Governments and governance would utterly fail

Until peace is found in this beautiful world.

I condemn all wars.

I condemn all condolences.

Driving home a message

The world has dressed

to destroy itself.

‘You're wrong

They're wrong’,

ringing everywhere

with nuclear power.

Isn't it that fear

is their only savior?

Issues much the same

LOW war;

On land, oil and water.

‘A lesson must be taught’

Age-old urge of the game

to amass the resources of the world.

There is none to break the cycle.

Powerless before our own Intelligence,

we are to witness the debacle

with nescience camouflaged as Sense.

we will expect a messy miracle!

If words could redress the stage,

bonhomie would cease to be strange.

‘We're all right’

written everywhere;

the world to be alive in the air.

Minds would dissolve the cage,

create the Home to rewrite the Page.

Are you listening.

The world fuming.

logic fails logic,

intelligence, Intelligence

Weak, insecure power

is the old grass

that needs to cower

attention adverse.

A messiah, a budhha, a jesus

perhaps

can save the inhabitants

from the disastrous flow of livid energies.

Let all businesses stop

let the world halt,

take a reflective break;

a much needed pause

from the meaningless profit and loss

an account that sucks life

coagulates the flow

of the wind and the water.

The drum beats in us, in isolation,

The world’s all set to commit suicide.

A total collapse of communication

with lifeless towers lurking to mint freezing funds

in the name of technology that through gaps grunts.

Born messiahs, are you listening.

This time when you come

in any recognizable shape or form

don’t be an author, please

what we need here

is to page for peace.

But then searching for what we already are?

An engaging job for those messiahs!

Let those magicians

perform their miracle, the sole reality,

let it come alive

let sense turn the history’s page

deliver the world from its juvenile cage

and find wealth and solace

it’s seeking in the outer space.

In French

Vous écoutez.

Le monde fume.

Logique engrave logique,

intelligence, Intelligence

le pouvoir grêle inquiet

est la vieille lune

qui doit se recroqueviller

attention défavorable.

Un messie, un budhha, un jésus

peut-être

peut sauver les habitants

du flux désastreux des énergies livides.

Que toutes les entreprises arrêtent

Que le monde immobilise,

prenne une pause de réflexion;

une pause utile

du profit et perte

un compte qui suce la vie

coagule le flux

du vent et de l'eau.

Le tambour bat en nous, dans l'isolement,

Le monde se prépare à se suicider.

Un écroulement complet de la communication

malgré des tours inertes trompant des avoirs gelés

au nom de la technologie qui grogne dans les trous.

Messies nés, vous écoutez.

Cette fois, quand vous venez

dans les états et forme identifiable

ne soyez pas un auteur, s'il vous plaît

ce que nous avons besoin ici

est à la page de la paix.

Mais la recherche de ce que nous sommes déjà?

Un travail sinistre pour ces messies, n’est-ce pas!

Que ces devins

accomplissent leur miracle, la seule réalité,

qu'il vienne en vie

que la raison tourne la page de l'histoire

livre le monde de sa cage jeune

afin de trouver le contentement et l’aisance

qu’il s’occupe à rechercher dans un espace étrange.

Insignia

Labels and tags foaming all around

with a pungent smell, onerous sound.

Nausea

stereotype lifeboats in sight,

the ocean is chained and bound…

froths of gags flowing from those wrights

ceaselessly upon me, in me

through wordy days and nights.

Dissatisfaction is a given

to the rich and the poverty-stricken

the confused, unused ‘I’ wants to untie,

shred blossoms that blight

sliver feathers that don’t fly.

The vast blue pollutes in designs

that which could have embraced the sky.