Just a little away

Just a little away

Drowned in the ocean of words,

The trained devil lived in me

For eons of years.

Old stories, flirted with the new –

An iceberg trained my cotton thoughts,  

Stuck in the mountain top, each time as clouds

Until they tore apart.

Lightness masked in light turned into liquid stiffness,

In depth and width;

Images went into the desert

To look for water.

Silent nameless objects had to listen

To the sandy salty silky mirror

Howling into hollowness,

Reluctant compulsion to form demons

To recognize, recall,

Yet surprised,

How corpses re-appear on the frozen zone!

Loud evil is a live note of being.

Now it ventures with a cracking tune.

The latent talent of needlessness to shape

With ears and eyes alive,

Floating in the air…

Arrive in the clearing.

Out from the jungle of weeds,

Just a little away, though

Neck deep in words.

19 August 2014

A song re-visited on our Independence Day

A song re-visited on our Independence Day

I was tensed with the tenses

Until I saw my senses

Change them, break the fences

I wonder if it ever could be sung without offences

There are some words here and there

Adverbs of time have changed them everywhere

Here goes the song on our Independence Day

We [have] overcome, we [have] overcome,
We [have] overcome [yesterday];
Oh, deep in my heart, I [now] believe, 
We [have] overcome [yesterday].

[We have seen] us through, [We have seen] us through,
[We have seen] us through [yesterday];
Oh, deep in my heart, I [now] believe,
We [have] overcome [yesterday].

We're on to victory, We're on to victory,
We're on to victory [everyday];
Oh, deep in my heart, I [now] believe,
We're on to victory [everyday].

We [walk] hand in hand, we [walk] hand in hand,
We [walk] hand in hand [everyday];
Oh, deep in my heart, I [now] believe,
We [walk] hand in hand [everyday].

We are not afraid, we are not afraid,
We are not afraid [any day];
Oh, deep in my heart, I do believe,
We are not afraid [any day].

The truth [has made] us free, the truth [has made] us free,
The truth [has made] us free [today];
Oh, deep in my heart, I do believe,
The truth [has made] us free [for sure today].

We [now] live in peace, we [now] live in peace,
We [now] live in peace [everyday];
Oh, deep in my heart, I do believe,
We [now] live in peace [everyday].

15 August 2014

The seed

The seed

Tales of fruitlessness in the eating of fruits,

Nothingness in nothing is missing, since stories

Started to write in the minds of the bench seated blankly

Beside a flowing river;

No need is felt for the Seed to produce something,

In place of something,

The same child, born hundred years ago

Is dying in the same parent,

From the food to the shoes,

Cooked in the kitchen brain,

Is visibly mixing, though slow, from the surface;

Ketchup and seasonings, excess exercises on the externals,

Are matters that mouth-water the gray.

The bench in the goings-on of growth-death twins,

In the tracks of the parent and the child,

Is easily found;

Change without a storm remains the form

And the noisy course alone brings out the predicted saliva.

Hands of the clock in the externally silent mime-show do not move

During eating the eaten,

Or during the making of a birth, time pretends to stop.

14 August 2014

Organs

Organs

Ears were talking to the eyes

Of histories, of horrors heard,

Broken bones with bodies of hearse,

Nothing could be realized except blood.

What eyes saw ears played in the see-saw game

Repeated blaspheme in the agonies of fame,

And the odor they sent, for the nostrils to smell,

Smokes from the drains kept stinking as hell.

In the scratch of borders with orders of war

They damaged, went howling as though fallen for the star,

The pairs fell sick still rhymed the grimace face,

With blisters of burns that embraced without grace.

All the painted drama in the canvas still hissing

Echoed just the same for the eraser was missing,

Where is the root, in the flesh or in the bone?

Thoughts kept singing in the tunes overthrown!

Freshness in the light with a palliative sound,

Will the organs witness as they wander on the ground.

13 August 2014

The most suitable place

The most suitable place

Where can we make love with not a little trace?

Bed is a known place, ah no not on the staircase!

Out in the field maybe on the beach?

Eyes will audience when they’d hear the screech!

How about the highway or that intersecting bridge?

Mocking honks will scream and looks will make us freeze!

Let’s go to borders and work it inside out?

An unsafe place it is with angry people around!

Then let us go there where people pray at peace?

With doubts in the air the scene is far from bliss!

Let’s go to the forest or that penetrating hill?

We can make it there where the act is not a sin!

Or better still the graveyard where senses beat and bloom?

Or let us make it there in our cozy little womb!

13 August 2014

Blinding blues

Blinding blues

Fruits of memories,

On the branches, in the trees

Morning moon, a reminder

Of an unwanted tool, visible afar,

Handicapped love has gone to search

For a better retrouvailles;

It is soon to be blessed with a boon

Of euphemism;

On the other side, the setting free cliché

Is a struggling fish, crawling towards a pond nearby,

The sky is breaking apart,

The noise is out of place.

11 August 2014

In the interest of everything

In the interest of everything

If as a child, I could see me now,

I’d eat properly,

Study what’d please me dear,

Play to keep fit, not fight.

If as a teenager, I could see me now,

I’d not backchat with my parents,

My teachers, my elders, my neighbors,

If as a youth I could see me now,

I’d focus more on my work.

If now I could catch the time of my death

I’d do more of service,

On love, on a lot of things,

Instead of fighting with words, for words

With my unconscious breaths,

I’d also choose the place of my birth,

If I could do that with any of my worth!

Hey Science!

There’s a lot of work to do,

Instead of inventing arms of weapons

With pounds of dollars,

Conquer, connive, concoct and con.

If I could invent a machine for good,

That’d make people laugh,

Create oxygen in the thick air that pollutes and pains,

Track people who are starving for food,

I’d there with the machine create a rain of drinking water and grain,

Connect with children deprived, women violated,

Provide what’s needed instead of a technological bluff,

That which is in the interest of everything without a price inflated.

Hey Science!

There’s a lot of work to do,

Instead of inventing arms of weapons

With pounds of dollars,

Conquer, connive, concoct and con.

Think Science think!

On something that’s worth the link!

I know you know the poem of art!

Your smart brain’s not without a heart!

10 August 2014

In search of the huddle

In search of the huddle

Worlds that are born of the non-dual world,

Dwell in the minds that are blind and blurred.

Since the One is merged in too many ones,

The meaning is lost in the huddle undone!

In the faith that the world can never be destroyed,

Hats are hatching and heating in void.

Intelligence for sure can win us a way,

If that’s not butchered in pieces of clay!

04 August 2014

Sense on leave

Life grounded. Sounds of vehicles

Merge with cries of various classes and

Sameness shamelessly defeats the newness
of all kinds

Imprisoned in poisoned melancholy of frozen
thoughts

Icebergs are upside down smirking at the
mountains,

Silence measured, calculated.

On the other hand, leaves are drying up

Ponds, lakes covered with brown fatigue.

Sky laughs with innumerable teeth

Of basic hanging colors, white, black, gray,

Nothing rises above the focus. Faiths of
bullets, guns

And incredibly visible sharpness of arms

Are awed with respect from all corners;

Horizons have merged into a ball

Replete with the hunger of hired anger;

Known result of stagnation, starvation

Horror, terror has scrapped all other

Impotent words from the dictionaries.

Green leaves that dare to peek, rainbows
that connect

Troubled floors are royally ignored;

Dumped in the confines of writers

Never to be read or heard,

Creativity lies in the destruction of life.

The world that was born years ago

With a lot of care is all set to be
destroyed with intelligence,

On sabbatical smokes hibernates
the sense.

04 August 2014

Every moment writes its own stories

Every moment writes its own stories

Some moments on their journey,

Utterly drowned

In the stories floating inside;

Since they had passed,

Like suns and moons of yesterdays,

They seemed distant, unreal.

During the crises of failures and successes,

Could not recognize

Them as evanescent seconds

As nights and days that would fade…

Distant wings overpowered the grounded feet.

Now on the crossroad,

The stretch lies to be seen in between

Stories that fly and those that walk,

But can this be prevented now;

Every moment writes its own stories.

03 August 2014