Saturday, 29 June 2013

Loops of Love

Abstract : The Color Red

We are seeds of the same flower,
Carried by wind to poles apart,
Time brings your fragrance,
The spores bring your love!

We are tunes of an unwritten song,
Playing endlessly on and on,
With the memory of each other to
Keep us by, and no words to disturb
Our plights.

We are the dreams of a child,
His agonizing fears, his deep love,
His beautiful garden, his solitary cradle,
His toys, and his oedipus wraths.

We are memories waiting to be made,
Memories of guilt, memories of crime,
Memories of sorrow, memories of love,
Memories that nostalgia ignites!

We are half drunk cups of coffee,
Cold yet waiting to be consumed,
Useless and beyond all hopes,
We usually get flushed out.

We are a poet's funereal thoughts,
Which he could never pen down,
Yet in his dying cells, we live on
Undisturbed!

We are souls that meet after death,
Forced to live apart when alive.
We meet after the pains and tears
Of each and every lifetime,
And when we meet we hug till
We are born again, and for that
Eternal hug, we live a life!

Monday, 10 June 2013

Locked Doors

The Mag : Charleston Farmhouse Door

During his last years, Daniel decided
To speak about life to his only son.
All along the tide of life, he galloped,
Sometimes tall, sometimes meager,
In an infinite cycle of pain and smiles,
He always met doors that led him about,
It was about doors he wished to speak,
Doors that open onto obscure turfs.
His words never held the aura of youth,
Yet his eyes intended to portray zest,
He neatly wrote whatever occurred inside:

'Son, there are doors all around,
There are some in our home, and
More around you and inside too.
'Tis seldom you shall see them,
And rarely enough shall you find
Them open!

I may never help you to find 'em
But do search around, cause if
You don't it shall unite with the
Walls and you would never know
Its existence!

Grow bold you will, and surely
Open doors at will, but never hold
Pride, cause locked doors are
All around, and eventually you
Will meet with one. Have grace!
Accept that some doors are meant
To be barbed! And maybe then
You would find a way around
The walls, or even through them!

Indeed a saint once said, doors
Lead men to light, I never knew
What he meant then, but now
As I face a door half open as
I look up, I feel I always knew,
'Tis for this I let the paper taste
The dying ink!'

Indeed with those words Daniel opened
His last door, which presented Light!
It must also be said, he helped his son
To open his first door onto a fresh expanse,
That was filled with a different Light

Sunday, 9 June 2013

3 Stories

I.
Google Images

The sparkle of raindrops
Glorified the lotus.
She bathed in the warmth
Of the morning Sun, enjoying
With every ray that shower life.
A commanding motion of love
Filled her fragile petals as she,
Gave prostrations to another day
And its radiant shine.

II.
Google Images

A deer surged over countless rocks,
Within its powerful limbs rests
Life and hope. A menacing predator
Smelled the luscious odor of flesh,
The predator and his survival rests
Within his own limbs. In a battle
Of force and speed, one fights
Hunger, the other fights Death.

III.

Google Images

A man walks out to meet his love,
He is greeted by a hummingbird
Swiveling up and around, though
He do not see the passing birds, nor
The sanctified Lotus. The predator
And his inevitable prey is a part
Of a world the man shall never care.
Clocks tick, he waits.

Saturday, 8 June 2013

Viva la Evolución


I remember the silent spread of napalm,
And how the flesh were slowly cooked,
It never took a foul lot time, to see
Another war that builds itself free,
We are but an advanced breed of life,
And what we yearn for is evolution.

The stringent laws that holds men
In a surreal cage, provides them with
Their daily share of a promised diet,
But who cares to be free? We are born,
We die. And the path to death is life,
For a wholesome diet we sell our kins,
Amidst the show, who wants liberty?

The war is in the horizon, and weapons
Are the slaves' brains. Untouchable,
Unknown and Unclear it remains the
Most poignant. Thank God I must,
Napalms shall no longer boil flesh!
Of all the things evolution has promised
It gave a level fight on a level ground.

So, what caused you to unsettle?
Is it my words? Or is it the truth?
Is it my mockery of the world?
Or is it the knowledge that you are
A silent part of the next war?
Whatever remains the reason, do not
Spill. Because evolution demands your
Silence. Stay Calm. Keep at war.
Viva la Evolución!

Monday, 3 June 2013

Scribblings on a Rainy Night



1
Rains
Are memories 
That shatter around
With the cold resonating dawn.
Today it is all but the same
Each drop hit the Earth
And artfully breaks
Into countless
Moments!


2
Drops
Are savories
Of a forgotten time
Carefully blended, and clear.
Each drop lines my window today
Singing their stories, of
Love, war and plights,
And waits for
My hands'
Caress!


3
Artist
Is he who
Mixed the falling rain
With the delicacy of the drops
And this night indeed
Portrays its skill
In Art!

Saturday, 1 June 2013

Myths and Monuments


Abstract : Raven , the Dark Messenger

A sadistic raven flapped its wings around;
The monument that build itself about
Grew forever in grit, power and height.

It held a camp of deficient minds brooding
Over what was lost in the holy fight;
Lives, luxury and inevitably sanity.

They searched for torches in the monument,
One fatuous guy prayed for light, The raven 
Knew the Sun was up, she slowly came out.

The guy was called a preacher and the raven
Became a concealed God, she was fed, loved
And worshiped for bringing light.

Soon the croak of the raven echoed in
The monument, it filled the chores,
It filled their senseless lives with an allusion.

Sadism raced through the raven's blood again,
She ate out of the children's plate, she
Pecked at life that threatened her place.

But it was the wrath of an angry God,
No one dared to counter its flaws, And she
Flew on about, unharmed and untouched.

Monuments are all around were ravens
Rule men, preachers are even more who
Claim to hold the raven's wings in their altar.

Myths are monuments that men build,
Ravens are Gods that moved life,
But are you a preacher or a follower?