Sunday, May 27, 2018

Shifting position


For long
my organs were hypothecated
I was living a borrowed life
lived, outdated.

Now
I have a blue sky
in my eyes,
they see the world
without hired colors;
I have a stream
in my ears,
they listen to the world
flow and fall
with melodies unheard;
I have a stage
in my tongue,
it lives in peace
with words and tunes
unsaid, unsung;

My hands have a mountain
in between
it shivered on my shoulders
bold, loud, fearsome
my head
dead tired for years,
of late it hangs in my arms
rests, vibrates on my lap
steady, stable, serene.

Integrity


‘How lovely to see you’,
says my smiling face
‘No, it’s not true’
sighs my inner space.
I feel heavy and hollow
beyond trace.

I sound sweet
when I think good and nice
in my mind.
It’s an engaging exercise;
my thoughts and speech coalesce at ease.
What a splendid bliss this is.
I feel light and healthy from inside.

Discovery


All through the sleeping days
I was acting on the stage
mimicking actions done for years,
parroting words of others
unsure, confused, rejected;
yet I had wings
to fly like a bird.

When I chose to be the audience
I stopped judging
enjoyed the role
started loving it all, from end to end
understood the importance
of waking up, accepting
my performance.

The same mundane world around me
uncovered, softened, changed;
detached, I was stable on the ground
my feathers could lift me beyond the sky
anytime
independent and free.

Thursday, May 24, 2018

Reliving


Yesterday, I was thinking of yesterday
Living in dead hours
Yes to scrapped days
I wish I could say noterday
but dictionaries will be worried
beyond words, with naysayers;
anon with tomorrow I'm perpetually in wars
relay race continues to rehearse
mind ceaselessly carry memories, like hearse
it hardly has a trace
how it disappears behind grace;
hurt, hidden, punished, banished
in hell, in hell, in hell.

Powerless
I am slowly buried under the earth
I struggle to heal my moments
thousands of them, pouring in,
but I have also learned to plan and win
for days yet to be born
with my learned horn
my head, my head, my head is only alive
why!

I wish I could live light, feel good,
forever in heaven, engaged and full
but I have learned to live in my beautiful
dazed yesterday
with heaps of known sorrow
reliving in the dead tomorrow.

Sunday, May 20, 2018

The story of civilization

The story of civilization

 In every home a sad story lies
still I know ‘I will rise’
the unashamed masculine world yet
is ragging me in my nursery, beyond words.
I am not a newcomer anymore
I was born with different organs; tender, soft,
engaging for you to fondle, to manhandle, to violate
you have all been so united, so desperate
to keep us under your belt; our power to vote, to speak,
to drink, to work, to learn and earn
is still limping on the stage. Even in 2018,
we have to ask for these rights; judgments, tortures
reign through your muscled eyes.
Your fake and meek might, your attempt to subjugate us,
is still the germ, your sperm did the trick
but the womb did the magic. The day we unite and decide
not to shelter the gray-drops, no terrorist will be born;
no leaders; no saints will walk on the earth
to fight the war, when men will also cease to take birth.

Your repentance in action without pretence
can sustain the story of civilization nevertheless
in every home, in every garden.



French

L'histoire de la civilisation

Dans chaque maison une histoire triste se cache
Désormais je sais encore que ‘je me lèverai’
Le monde masculin sans honte encore
Me harcèle au sein de ma serre, au-delà des mots.

Je ne suis plus une nouvelle venue
Avec  des organes différents, tendre, doux, je suis née
Que vous engagez à caresser, à malmener, à violer
Vous avez tous été si unis, si désespérés.
Notre pouvoir de voter, de parler, de boire, de travailler,
d’apprendre et de gagner claudique toujours sur la scène.
Même en 2018, il faut demander ces droits déterminés;
Des jugements et des tortures règnent à travers vos yeux musclés.
Votre fausse et douce force, votre tentative de nous subjuguer est
toujours le germe, votre sperme a fait l'affaire
mais notre ventre a fait la magie.
Le jour où nous nous unissons et décidons
de ne pas abriter les gouttes grises, aucun terroriste ne naîtra;
pas de leaders; aucun saint ne marchera sur la terre
quand les hommes cesseront aussi d'accoucher afin de lutter contre la guerre.

Sans prétexte votre remords en pleine action
peut soutenir néanmoins l'histoire de la civilisation
dans chaque village, dans chaque jardin.


Thursday, May 17, 2018

But in my dreams


The moon was ready
to part
unlike me
the silver ball, with all its crews
in its single hue
hidden forms, out of sight
knows it’d reincarnate
anytime
in the huge blank of blue.

I am never done it seems
with transactions
of all sizes, shapes and colors
alas
I am never ready
to leave the body.

That pending interaction
or the other relation
to be cleaned
or for some elusive attraction
I hang on;
even if I reappeared on the screen
memories will be washed
like the night
or those holes in the star
gleaming with life
sensing light
stable, steady.

But in my dreams
I often become the moon.

Friday, May 11, 2018

Trying


In trying to write your script
I forgot mine.
Managing your lines
is such a waste of time
my page is crowded, gripped
with your words, your wounds, your footprints.

You I was trying to change
how on earth does it make sense?
But the world cannot disengage
from this clouded ignorance;
in the allowances, it oversteps.

You I was trying to control
confused in the given roles
my feet, never on the ground
my wings, lying hidden, unfound
my words, my script, my lines
lost, unheard, undermined.