And yet I am not a somnambulist

When I go for my walks,

long ones,
it feels I am going
to the mountains
to meet the magician
who marries all.

But today,
as I was coming back
I heard a cracking sound,
in silence, I sensed
doors were opening
with my heartbeat
doors, doors, doors
for years shut, closed
now opening
like those flowers
that bloom in those gardens
in most unnoticed bushes.

How could I’ve imagined this
I’m not that much of an optimist
and yet I am not a somnambulist!

They were all doors
of places of worship.
But it was strange
to find people
to have swiped their spaces
known boundaries
the walls they thought
as their own,
they're out of their comfort zones.
But they’re not feeling
as strangers, as intruders
as mere visitors, as outsider
they felt not any different;
familiar welcoming warmth,
equally positive vibrations
from the walls.
I am willingly walking over me,
walking past, with my feet
above, enjoying the journey
winning on years of self-defeat.

 How could I’ve imagined this
I’m not that much of an optimist
and yet I am not a somnambulist!

Gurudwaras, Mosques, Churches
Synagoues and Temples;
now full with people,
who’d suddenly discovered
today, without guilt, fear or shame
the teachings were in essence, much the same.
They’re not seeking pardon
not even those Nazis seen in synagogues;
once and for all
seeking pardon seemed over and done;
they’re all engaged in seeking
retraining the teachers’ teachings.

How could I’ve imagined this
I’m not that much of an optimist
and yet I am not a somnambulist!

Majority of them
seemed tired of breaking
their own religions into pieces
fighting, and only fighting
with themselves,
but today, after years of hatred
bloodshed, mindless wrath,
with the cracking sound of opening doors
they heard the disapproval
of those saints they loved and adored.

How could I’ve imagined this
I’m not that much of an optimist
and yet I am not a somnambulist!

Followers decided to walk the talk,
the teachings of the Magician
which the teachers taught
with openness, experiencing the feeling
from deep within.

How could I’ve imagined this
I’m not that much of an optimist
and yet I am not a somnambulist!

Hitlerization

Buddha and Jesus
chained in words;
good, kind, pious
positive letters
emotive expressions
chosen Ps and Qs
conscious hints and clues
chanted, written
in unending volumes
revered, measured,
relived, treasured,
for years and years;
inside the holy premise
the outstanding guys
worshipped as the supreme teachers
remembered without fail
in every celebrations.

But their teachings?
For Heaven’s sake,
who applies them!

For that my dears,
please ‘lend me your ears’
we have the infamous delinquent dude
we may know him as unkind and rude
he may be the harbinger of terror and war
from the bottom of our hearts, we may hate Hitler!
BUT o please don’t get hurt
we follow and apply his tricks to the letter!

Wake up friends…open your eyes
he’s in us as Mr Hyde
who comes in every walks of life
 diligently, in disguise,
he directs, he instructs, he wins
all over the world, we hate our neighbors
love the sin, hate the sinner;
like herds of hypnotized sheep
we follow him and his teachings
weird it is o my ostrich brothers and sisters
that yet, we certainly worship Buddha and Jesus
as the most undisputed, respected teachers.



I may not be competent, I may not be compliant, but the voice that's floating inside may not coagulate.

The salient

Talking of noble things
writing to break open the door
winning arguments
are songs that sing aloud
clearing the cloud
beautifully, charming the firmament;
they could even provide food
for the mind and the heart
with all their craft and their art
noble, pious, just as they should.

Application is silent
but it shows in the way
one behaves and beholds
the world.

The indomitable

Hungry world.
Beggars all around.
The rich and the poor,
the young and the old,
the weak and the bold,
men, women, children
perpetually cursing, blaming each other
the one thing they have in common
is that they’re all in need for more.

Refugees and land-owners,
vagabonds, nomads, 
city-dwellers owning one 
or multiple
high-rises, skyscrapers;
all are busy begging from beggars
some taking, some snatching alms 
milks, meats, meals
dishes of deals.

Pages are dark with ink
leaves are turning brown
written stories draining the crown
drying with drought
like dying warriors; soldiers
beyond any doubt
never seem to be in sync.

In this drama of life
I am also starving
never to lose the appetite
to write; trying forms and norms
to shock-shift frozen thoughts
it seems I am set
words are failing, yet
there is this one energy,
that of love, pouring on the stage
guiding, guarding, greening my garden
raining from above, at every little stage.

Karma

When you hit the invisible ball

on the silent out-of-sight wall

know on you it will befall

until you take a conscious call.

It could come back to you

after many births, or the following day

or later than a decade,

on this you can hardly have a say

but this ballgame per se
is sure, certain, lucid and true

with it, you can never ever trade.

By showing your fear or guffaw

while receiving the ball's inevitable law

you create your next destiny

boon or bane as it might be!

!Heil Hitler!

It is easy to sing

with perfection

inside the sacred wings

'love thy neighbor',

'hate the sin, not the sinner'

or memorize the eight-fold path;

it is a challenge to live

upto these, for in application

do we follow Buddha and Christ?

They are completely shelved aside!

To walk the talk, we dread

reading the road that’s red

in Greece and Myanmar.

              .Sad.

Out there on the field, most anywhere

the air is surreptitiously hissing
          !'Heil Hitler'!

Being in addiction

Approval and acceptance
from the 'other'
are the alms one begs
from everyone around
going round and round
to friends, colleagues, parents, sister,
brother, spouse, children, lover, stranger
until it becomes a habit worse
than a grass.

Awareness
helps one to return
to one’s religion
of seven qualities;
happiness, peace,
power, love, purity
knowingness, bliss
and bring each one of them
into action.

It delivers a being
from the worst addiction.

Unanswered questions

Red tears, hurting the earth
every day, spreading like rage
pages unread, buried with
raindrops, dewdrops
trying to heal the wounds.

Words wanting to conceal
failing into sophism
getting clouded, cluttered
in volumes of useless methods
to wipe the fears; to numb the queries
they question the color and the pain.

Far off, a shepherd
just left his flute on the field
that was singing of love,
now outdated, captured as painting
like a deadlock that’s adorning
the walls of several museums
obedient asylums
standing in tandem
without questions.

Out on the two-thousand-year old field
beyond words and methods
young clouds are breaking into waters
just born dawns, softening the earth
with dewdrops.

The painted shepherd looks at the herd
then, at the flute, he wants to come out
from the place of the dead, live and be heard.

Ceremonies prevent the event beyond doubt
starving words have to eat the truth
they are, as it were, famished;
in the middle of salty waters  
uninvited intruders
spreading like a red carpet
the ostentatious supper begins.

Only some buried questions
same hidden questions
unanswered, remain.

Ignoring the salient truth
is clouding the crown,
taking refuge in nature
seems to be the only option
questions harness
hiding, hanging, hurling, hissing, humming
everywhere in medias res
truth blooms outside though into fruition
inside is blind with darkness
a field tonsured
turning the flutist jobless
with questions unanswered.

Un poème bête

Un poème bête

Les cons par conséquent

courent après le qu’on dira-t-on

sans qu’ils sachent que la vérité

depuis l’éternité

ne se trouve pas dehors

qu’elle dort bien à l’intérieur

désormais les bêtes ils aiment

vivre dans le mensonge

ne pas se réveiller
de leur songe

c’est le jeu que ces anges
adorent jouer.

Hitler is the shepherd

Jesus was crucified.

Hitler committed suicide.

While the former
said, ‘hate the sin,
not the sinner’
it fell on deaf ears, went unheard,
the latter, a genocide ruler
has herds of sheep
to take care.

Hitler is the shepherd
a true leader
living in action.

Jesus has long disappeared
we worship HIM without fail,
especially on Sundays
in big mansions.