Nothing is lost

Nothing is lost

Nothing is lost in space.

The traveller is dark with agony,

A polluted pond stinks of neglect,

A fresh fence is born,

Mother’s unkempt hair covers the milky child.

Clouds in the city

Do not scratch, screech; they travel,

Gloomy wherever they go,

Clear whenever they go.

The traveller cannot see the milk,

The oil, the wood,

Laughing right in front,

They are waiting to prepare the food.

The child vibrates,

Milk pours in,

Whitewashes the pond and the city

The visitor looks, walls are broken.

In space, nothing is lost.

23 July 2014

Life as I read it

Life as I read it

Life is like a railway track,

Or a file kept in the forgotten rack,

We move and go in the proven field,

Lest flaws belittle and make us yield.

That I am this and never that,

Chains that cripple our dogma diktat,

Before I look and before I know,

The roles and rules throw up in a row.

A life before I have to live,

It’s locked in frames with clever belief.

Who will wake up from the bed so dead!

A life to read before it’s read!

21 July 2014

My seven pigeons

My seven pigeons

Clap! Clap! Clap!

My seven pigeons flying over my head,

On the terrace I just had them fed,

They are flying free, so high and low,

I whistle to alert away the trap,

They glide, they sail and glow.

When I sing my own anthem,

I call them in notes,

When I paint my open page,

They become those seven colour tones,

They fly with my wings in them,

My worries do not have them stone,

They are off their grounded cage.

I know they’ll come back soon,

To me they’ll coo their simple boon,

Tomorrow they’ll fly again and spread,

Their warmth in every song be read,

They’d learn to be in the gleeful gap,

As handful thoughts would whistle and clap.

21 July 2014

It is not about nothing

It is not about nothing

It is not about gods and demons,

About day and night,

About poverty and wealth,

About morality and health,

It is not about nothing.

It is about a child molested with words

Kind, soothing and accepting,

It is not about a woman

Feeding the world with her breasts,

It is not about nothing.

It is not about a name,

It is not about image

Like the water in a mirage,

Not about the butter in the boiling milk,

Not about the fragrance in the air unseen,

It is not about nothing.

It is not about light,

Not about darkness,

Not about blindness and vision,

Not about ignorance and wisdom,

Not about the renouncer and the renounced,

Not about I and You.

I am curious to know what it is about,

My restless mind is calming me down

In subjugation,

And yet it wants to know what it is about,

It is not about the dubiousness of

Nothing matters,

It is not about nothing.

18 July 2014

strange

strange

whether the earth moves or the sun
all I know is they are there for each other
whether they form a desert or the beach
all I know is that the sand is connected
people fight over typos

16 July 2014

golden touch

whatever I touch is turning into gold
I am not Midas, nor was I blessed
Thank God, I am still in flesh and blood

From the line

From the line

I have come from the line,

To avouch a perplexing sight!

Who asked you to bloom here!

In such a dreggy sump,

With such perfection! 
With fronds so paradisaical,

Shoots so frangible,

You’d gain the hair of a queen,

Grace the feet of a fetish;

But

You choose to flourish

Somewhere in a cesspool,

And blazon the flow!

You will be overwhelmed

In no time, I know you know;

Or

Were you waiting for this moment?

Of breeding,

Of a witness

Who catches the ken…

From an emergent line!

12 July 2014

Players

Players

Players.

Day and night,

Writing stories,

No matter what.

Are on the stage,

Masked

In flesh and blood.

Time comes and goes

In the space,

From where nothing can

Be stolen.

Still,

Players re-write.

Tales

Of retention lost,

Of titles found,

Day and night,

No matter what.

11 July 2014

Welcoming seat

Welcoming seat

You are by my side,

Moon candles the dreamy night,

The river flows beside us;

You have nestled inside me,

Your cave, as you call it.

I can see your hidden eyes;

Peeking through the black luminous fall,

You are singing my favourite song

Just above my heart

My chin rests on your head.

There the flowers with their redolence,

Trees with their unsought shades,

The river with its freewilled breeze,

The nature caresses my essence,

Our audience,

You stop.

Have you forgotten the tune, or the words?

Nothing!

The river flows beside us,

Curtain falls on the moon,

Will come back to adorn

This welcoming seat!

09 July 2014

Exposed

Exposed

Blood is shooting out!!!

Like poems suddenly exposed to shame!!!

The red streams were happy inside,

Are now out in rage!!!

Who dares!!!

Who dares!!!

The Sun fell off the horizon hole,

The moon draped behind the clouds,

Drops of hopes blackened the ground!!!

They hung through a body inert unmoved!!!

09 July 2014