Death of an artist

Eyes and ears busy
Writing scripts,
Stories of delusion
Taking the artist away from the creative space

There's this freshness of time,
In a splash 
No clue, none at all of the text
Peeking at times at the slightest pretext

The stage, placed inside
Lost in rattling dialogues,
Like old beginners, singing in pain,

With disengaged organs

FIR on fire

In my country, FIR is on fire

Words like guns shooting out with force

Hatred and anger in a tireless intercourse

Peace is stillborn, thrown in ire

A union

A union

Your hands, a hanging necklace,

Surround me

Your face a pendant;

You are raining smiles from the earth,

My sky now green, quenched, a tad thirsty still,

Your self has gone into mine,

We are drowned in us.

Horizon has given up on stretching…

A flower is blooming on the leaf,

A handful of fragrance, its only existence

A dollop of air, like a forest

Is playing in between!

My head and my hands

Now your garland!

Breaths outside,

Gliding a merry-go-round

Tickling the throats,

A wish bounces from us,

From the mountain of moments

That showers the blue

Until eternity!

Let the earth sleep with the sky.

12 September 2014

You in I

You in I

You got me an elephant when I wanted a horse.
You took me to Paris when I was to be in Corse.

You drew me a picture I never wanted to see,

You left me in those chains when I wanted to be free!

I wanted a dip, so dear and clear, you never gave it to me,

The swimming game is sailing away in the ocean of sea.

When peace is what I want in here, why do you show me war?

Is it true I hid from you my treasured little scar?

Who is you and who is I O heavens tell me please,

All I want is be with you in a friendly ease!

The gap is there perhaps to show that listen has gone away,

When you and I are in the noise the silence how would stay!

Garbage of war in everywhere there’s poison in the air.

The horse gallops in land of Corse with sounds of peace so rare.

06 September 2014

Inviting metanoia

Inviting metanoia

Disgusted with the world;

What intelligence cannot turn the salty water sweet?

The liquid crisis will melt at ease.

Agonies of salt occupy the disbelief of sweetness.

No, say those prophets, please do not respect us

And keep us grounded in those walls,

Worship and chain those you replicate and emulate.

Wars will in to time cease.

Weapons scared of betraying bitterness.

Ah! How horrible those excess of food fed in the oceans,

Our guts do not put them into the mouths starving.

Hungers will freeze.

Poverty insists on feeding pockets of darkness.

I wish I had a lab where I’d invent air, water, light,

A meaningful machine that’d turn war into peace;

Would I be called intelligent if I didn’t enter into a fight?

Would the world cure with a whole lot of bliss!

06 September 2014

Note: Metanoia means a change in our mental model – a shift in the way we think

Holiday of lies

Holiday of lies

We walk on the ground that is flat,

And take sides in pairs,

With holy unholy hat;

See the sun set on the horizon,

The moon rise,

And the visible blue sky up there!

Everything we see and hear!

The truth escapes and denies!

O what a holiday of lies!

01 September 2014

A tableau in the making

A tableau in the making

Look at my palm,

Solid as a rock,

Your softness placed over it,

My world; you are leaning on my fingers.

The parts of your back stuck in between them,

You turn right and look down at me. Smiling, no stress;

As if you a feather I’d need soon to pen or fly!

But genuflecting, you turn around and look at me,

Now holding my fingers as your new-found window…

I ask you your eyes, those unmistakably yours,

What is it that you don’t believe!

Your lightness or my strength!

Watch me write now,

On what! You wonder.

About you or me! Pause.

I could be writing about us!

01 September 2014

If I knew the line

If I knew the line

Oftentimes,

I wonder

About the honey and the sting;

A humming sound on the pages of time,

It goes, and comes back without a clock,

Measured and balanced.

From where does the need come?

A tune with blanks in space

If I knew the line

I wouldn't fumble!

31 August 2014

When my shoulder is heavy

When my shoulder is heavy

I am under the words today.

Just like the other day.

When I didn’t figure,

I was investing my future in it.

They come to bruise,

My muscles and my arms,

I realize I wasn’t prepared for it

Like I won’t in the days to come

When my shoulder is heavy

They show up like these just like that

31 August 2014

The guardian angel

The guardian angel

I am the rainbow,

Standing as a border in between

The rain and the sun,

Asking them to stop the fight!

To clear their minds from the powerless thought,

Of how violent can they get with their flood and their drought!

As their child, I am here to tell the kids,

Of how they have energized and enlightened the world,

With their obscene opulence that only infinity can measure

In its brooks and meadows and in most everywhere,

As unmatched sources that have helped the world perfect,

That unnoticed leaf without care.

As a synergy I stand in between them

Their emergent property,

A colourful reminder,

I tell my parents not to be delinquents.

There! One power descends willingly from the seat,

For the other to recover from the moment of defeat!

I am the rainbow,

Standing as a border in between

The rain and the sun,

Asking them to stop the fight!