penultimate war

penultimate war

first world war
is now hundred years old
it is not a scar!
killing is still to be sold

divides multiplied
in nine billion forms
power borders have lied!
soiling rules and norms

we are willing to kill birds
with wires we destroy
unwilling soldiers hidden!
still in wooden horse of Troy

with brain we celebrate
the first of January
heart with shame innate!
might sense the contrary

wonder if ever will be fought
the last world war
could we tie the knot!
in any coming year

calling of a new year

calling of a new year

What is so new I wonder

New songs, new nature

new sun that's old is mind's conjecture

reality that's beauty without punctuation

that knows no pretense

of newness is the same

old day saying hey

I am here just as it were

if you ever could free yourselves

from the unnatural self

from violence as poverty and intolerance

the world would really be new

in its new light

rest is all fake lights

free from moisture

like the one in a desiccator

full of cameras

that blind us

in the wake of a year

let us bind together

knowing it's the same old sun

same old birds in the same old sky

waiting for us like unlike

without anger and wry

without groups and classes

that dissent masses alike

sharp escape

sharp escape

Forest. Deep forest. 
I can hear the fox 
that follows the tiger... 
pitch dark. nothing is seen...everything heard... 
fluttering of birds, owls chatting 
stabbing the dark 
i see two fire balls and don't hear the fox 
no heartbeat...nothing at all...only the fireballs 
i can here the smell of rotten flesh 
i am like a piece of cloth soaked in a washing machine 
waiting to be washed 
waters flowing downstream 
without form and shape 
i just woke up with a scream 
imagined a sharp escape 

habitat

Notes in the book..
Words fall like water singing
Cattles facing down 

Lime Lyte

Everyday I drink 
Lemonade in Halloween 
Words sweat in darkness 

A year is just a day

A year is just a day

A year is just a day...
Like a chip in the archive tray.
 
We pass it heavy so very slow...
Yet moments alight it flies to go.
 
We talk it out like days that grew...
As fruits and flowers old anew.
 
Some tunes unsung in silent note...
A boat that’s sunk yet sets afloat.
 
We walked through days that’s so very short...
No backup of acts in the river of thought.
 
Happy sad have days gone by...
Stories lie of alibi.
 
Freshen up for another day...
Until it chips and goes away.
 
Live it up with plane love and cheer!
The day’s here to make a year!

Wall of meanings

Wall of meanings

Right in the middle of a leaf
The inks laid down its say,
They came from a trained wind stiff
That stormed the feelings away.

Painters and writers trying to link
The stable with the change so tense,
Their works gained and lost to think
Of the scratches that made no sense.

Scientists are looking for the dice
Unable to find the funny ball,
In the game of virtue and vice
Stays the still and stubborn wall.

Rules of yeses and noes,
Sides that flow the running river
Are those that run the eyes and nose
To play this nosy game forever and ever.

Good and evil, words to understand
World for its word, gives us all a hand,
For guarding right and wrong
Hearts could melt the wall, so strong.

Never wondered why as people we divide
In the world that's round and without any side,
Never pondered why the world is still with us
It doesn't have a rule that judges, makes a fuss.

Right in the middle of a leaf
Inks have melted into clay,
The wind emerged from cliff
That's softened the walls away.

let me

let me

Let me see
If desires cease
Mirror cracks
Images freeze.

Let me hear
The wheel of my hearse
The curtain falls
Actors rehearse.

that which is

that which is

Silence is near without voice,
What is far is noise;
What's near is unheard,
Unseen without choice.

Image is so untrue,
In between me and you;
That for what it's not meant,
Freezes and denies to melt.

That which is in us,
Seems outside campus;
That which's way too false,
Within us it falls.

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas

I was trying to nail down
the painter in me,
but it came out in the open just for free.
It had to draw upon a canvas,
Jesus standing like Krishna,
with a flute in his hand;
playing the tune Merry Christmas.

I tore the canvas and broke it into pieces
I am not possessed,
I do not have the right to melange,
I do not have the right to speak,
I do not have the right to offend,
I do not have the right to imagine,
I do not have the right to paint;
I kept it deep inside the wishes.

Curse me o my friends,
Hang me until death,
I'd for the shepherds,
Cease to take my breath.

Yet I see up in the sky
thousands of balloons dancing
free and high
paintings fresh and new are singing inside us
The only single tune
Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!