Incognito

Don’t go back                    go back;

Don’t play the old tune                 play back;

Don’t rewind the game                 rewind the game.

The gap says it all, between the rise and the fall;

Where to go, what to sing, and what to play;

Dissent that cracks the failing wall;

The middle is stable its hinges will stay.

There is a door                  open and wide;

Window’s hidden                            at no one’s side;

The floor has a ground                   an old new name.

opening cul-de-sac

opening cul-de-sac

What I have is what I am,

What I don't, is what I am, not,

Borrowed eyes are there to slam

Without a sound that covers the plot.

I am living the life lived thousands of years ago,

Tooth and claw, finding flaw lying on the bed,

Imprisoned ease none to release any show,

Black’s still so much ill in the burning red.

Questions have one response,

Answers there all so much within,

Lived through them all at once,

And watched the tired scene.

Driving home a message

When I was almost convinced that air horn was invented by a wasted talent who didn't know what to do with it, I thought of understanding its purpose with a reasonable objective mindset. 

This was what I found from Wikipedia.

“The air horn is a pneumatic device designed to create an extremely loud noise for signalling purposes. It usually consists of a source which produces compressed air, which passes into a horn through a reed or diaphragm. The stream of air causes the reed or diaphragm to vibrate, creating sound waves, and the horn amplifies the sound so it is louder. Air horns are widely employed as vehicle horns, installed on large semi-trailer trucks, fire trucks, trains, and some ambulances as a warning device, and on ships as a signalling device.”

However, in India and other APAC regions, these are installed on regular buses as well!

In my opinion, air horns should not be installed on city buses because of one single reason: sound pollution. To put it simply, it kills your ear drums. More so, because these are employed by thoughtless drivers who blow it out of proportions due of lack of understanding. Even if we see them misusing it, can they really be blamed? Their orientation is not towards safeguarding the environment, it is more towards driving, overtaking, and more mindless driving, and quite justifiably so because our roads have no defined space for light and heavy vehicles making traffic a mess most everywhere in the mentioned region. But that is not the point.

What surprises me most is the fact that even organizations which are doing a great deal of good work in terms of protecting the environment and society have their own office buses plying in the city with air horns. The question we need to ask ourselves is that whether we are able to prevent accidents by employing this meaningless instrument. I may not be able to understand its importance with my limited intelligence, but as a daily recipient of this horrendous sound, I feel that air horns are pretty much redundant and should be banned on regular buses. If all buses in the APAC region were to stop using them, who knows it could make a little difference in terms of protecting our environment from sound pollution.

If it rings a bell, I would appeal to all MNCs and other corporate houses to take the initiative of banning this environment un-friendly instrument, at least on their own buses.

Alternately, our acceptance should wonder at the ripple effect of hearing more of air horns as ring tones.

If not in Medias res

It takes courage to walk away

From conflict, thinking good of those who

Did it, without knowledge of the other way;

On the green meadow, under the sky so blue.

Tough enough to keep off words when

Looks narrow down from islands oozing water,

Arrows flowing up and down from speakers so sane;

Groups, crowds, teams gift swords of words to the defaulter.

Power, is to bless being right in the mess unaware,

Not to colour alone, with hatred and flair;

Strength is where the self, nests in a state of no offence,

To see what is deep inside all alike in nothing, in silence.

It takes love to loosen the strings, shred off the wings,

Take the squeezing poem out when it sings,

Out of being in Medias res walking down the aisle;

Limping, crawling yet waking up to the smile.

original fun

Faith in belief,
A big anger in a gun,
Cutting everyone
Until there is none;
Or cloning all bipeds
Into an insipid one.

One is not so easy,
Yet it is the original fun,
When differences don't blow
And sense begins to flow;
We will have begun
To see the moon in sun.

Trace

Her steps are not so tall,
Her face like mirror, round and small;
She came to me in ecstasy,
To show me what I want to see.

She sang when the sky was with the moon,
Danced to the leaves with a tender tune;
I was covered in a place so pretty known,
Lied on the root much overgrown.

One step up she sang with me,
My heart was on her dancing face;
It mellowed well through the breezing tree,
Her joys had left a little trace.

Date

You were there the other day,

I had a wound I dared to say,

It is there and yet to heal,

When to date I don’t see still.

I call a number to book the seat

Don’t know if there’s a chance

For us to meet!

Would roam around without a glance,

No meaning there without you,

Come to me come anew,

No words breathe, and none asleep;

My heart abounds a loving beep

I can’t listen and I can’t see

My part apart from all of me.

Catharsis

Audience is there inside the play

It is also there outside,

When Hamlet was cutting it out

With eyes on the gauging mother arrested from a side.

When sets don’t match,

A lookout screams for a third,

To catch the clue, and perhaps also understand

Need is to listen to the mess in the herd,

With a mind aligned, without a stand.

Amidst what is it to pound and what it is to hiss,

The flow of fear is far from near trapped to loosen catharsis.

In the gloom scattered in the room

Stage is done with pride.

Audience is there inside the play like an unwanted groom

Eating it all, with eyes outside.

stance

In the world outside, change is in the air

In the world inside, it’s the constant affair.

It's little strange

I don’t need to change;

in my garden, the same old tree

was there before my birth, will be still after me;

the same food, the same place,

same friends, the same dress;

if I remain the same,

I like who’re unlike me,

there’s nothing wrong, no shame

if I just let me be.
Like days and nights, fruits of the season I eat
Do not but repeat.

In the world outside, change is in the air

In the world inside, it’s the constant affair.

The instrument

The cream of crime

is when it doesn’t rhyme

The beauty of bliss

is when it is amiss
thinking of that or this

and sleeps, wakes up out of time!

They are so everything, in everything

Rhythm that comes from reading

Tune from the heart

words can merely part

from the most outstanding art…

For it is they we see, recite and sing!