word to word

word to word

Values, beliefs, ethics, principles are words,

Breathing through the nerves, hitting it round and again

For growth, profit, and bargain;

Of profiles and professions, of assets and possessions,

What travels commonly through the veins is grief.

Wonderful as the tailored flower, fruit and littlest leaf,

When two selves meet in a palace or on street

Fresh as the sweat drools for a treat;

Same is the lust and same the relief,

Then what is the seed, is it the diamond or the rice?

To those who are unlike we have ceased to be nice,

To clear it away all price is less

It has no brains, needs a heart without mess;

For us it is to search as we grow in our worlds,

Feelings warm that hide behind those frozen words!

Step by step

Step by step

Your feet remind me of my defeat,

Promised not to let them touch the ground,

Heard them tired working, running, walking around,

Garden threw up to a lonely meet.

Of how and what I couldn’t see,

Hurt you fell, and fell again,

Your belief still in the moon and rain,

Mesmerized a humming bee.

My poem if ever it gave a chance,

To clear away the core grievance,

Feet so meant to sing in dance,

Mind could take a step advance.

No bar

It seemed everyone knew it was not going to work,

Except us

Yes nevertheless.

Now threads are tearing in order

We see us so like others,

More or less

How has the divide been stronger than dividing the pain?

The profit power and all the ruling brain,

Meaningless – nevertheless.

We failed to remain with our other

Beside, failed as countries as neighbors

Pushed aside, yet in the blue firmament

Couples like us

Still talk of their feat, their achievement!

No ground to stretch our hand,

Up in arms to shoot the breathing air,

Waves of friendship ash in the sand,

Enemies come out in dancing despair.

Different we are on a raging ridge

Neighbors are we on a hanging bridge.

Land and sand, on which we grew,

Are leaving past we hold so true.

If only for us we act and think,

Perhaps to feel the missing link!

sacred words are not scared

if the word means surrender
i don't know
if the word means peace so tender
i am at ease it is to show
if the word means self perfection to render
i have no gumption high or low

words that are crying day and night
are shelved had lost the missing sight
words that could build the world tired and bored
are in the woods between the knife and the sword

who is to surrender who is to yield
if there is no one around none in the field
what we see out there is not true not true
words will show the way to me them and you

landing on the mind

I was walking in my mind

When the outside was clear with facts,

Didn’t even know was walking fast or slow

If sessions going on were short or long;

I had to be right to be so correctly wrong,

Feelings played on words hurt and cracked,

The past and more of past a glass of island.

I was outside but wasn’t much there

A little shake or two, took me unaware,

The laughter and the cry was the same as any guy

Living long ago with nowhere to fly;

The walks became long with no one along,

Breathing in and out yet refusing the time,

Bygones flashed like a lasting childhood crime!

With no structured line hollowed and malign,

It went on and on and on,

Facts so bored forlorn.

I heard the sound of dew

In early morning lake

The walks so silly flew

And washed inside so fake.

Sure it didn’t stay for long

Calendar back again, the walk ran in even strong,

Not willing to leave grounded on the floor

I tried to mop it clean from the bottom to the core;

It’s such a daunting task have no one for to ask,

Everyone’s in the game with a splendid pretty mask,

Huh there we are the same, are we not the same!

The name inside is not erring any shame,

Being in this game of cleaning time inside,

Outside’s mystery free and without any pride.

Return

I am into you,

I say things not experienced,

About someone or something not witnessed;

With eyes of someone just unknown,

The snowy brain in the meadows blown,

The language I never speak,

The beliefs I never seek.

                               

Sailing on the sea or driving down the lane

The turn makes a sense yet so much insane.

I am with you,

I write things you did,

The spine of self, broken splendid;

No parents, no foods, no language of me,

Dancing are others’ songs of agony ecstasy,

I write about flowers and trees,

I haven’t smelt or felt their breeze.

The scratch in the frame appears and creates

Song, right or wrong, fascinates and forgets.

King

Duncan killed, could not make him the king;

The murdered sleep unable to sing,

Dhritarastra blind, urged the brothers to fight;

The drudgery within lost the lasting pretty sight.

Of what use are these players, acting out the death;

Agonies of hatred with thoughtless length and breadth,

Hunger for anger, where in fact there is none;

Ground oozing lives that poem into fun.

Writers write to them, and talkers go on and on;

Action hides in us, when the king’s suddenly born,

Killing the wars in us, all we need to do;

Losing it on stage, winning it anew.

Entitled

A name is just a name,

A style anybody’s style;

Call a namesake,

Mirror falls on the ground,faking a cracking sound;

A set of broken beliefs pretending the wooden shelf,

Of what it is known when all a part of self.

Words are here to fail, lie and confuse,

Falter every time, of little or no use;

The patient page is yearning to sleep,

With all names and styles,been guarding the sheep;

In sameness, difference steals a place,

Desperate show in the blank resides a space.

Shameless rootless root that did not break the gene,

Names, actions of a kind can a style imagine.

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.