Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Eyespeak
Eyespeak
You speak
With
Your Eyes
Don’t stare at me
Like that
I can listen
To your voice
Through
Your eyes
I
Feel
You
Inside me
Even though
You have
Never
Spoke
To me
Full Stops
Full Stops
Dreams are never stopped
By full stops
As to why
There is always
A new sentence to come
Carrying a new story
Have you just stumbled
By a full stop
Of your life?
Dreams are like
Roads
Dreamers walk
On the road of dream
To emerge
As another road
Dreams are not destinations
Rather
They are wombs
Containing destinations
We shouldn’t be afraid of
Full stops
Full stop
Is
A sun of evening
Just wait
Wait for the morning
If
If
What shall you do
If all the doors are closed
Wherever you go for one night shelter?
What shall you do
If the land below your feet
Start slipping?
What shall you do
If all the rivers have dried up
And you are dying thirsty?
What shall one do
If sincerity is out of demand
With hollow commitments?
What shall one wait for
If all the rays of hope
Are nibbled by dark assurances?
It’s simple
Never give up
Never give up
Never give up
White Holes
White Holes
There are holes
In the air
Small holes
Big holes
The most confused
And the most fatal
Medium sized holes
The holes are white
As white as
Her lost handkerchief
Their divorce paper
Is white
Just as the hole in the sky
There are holes
In the air
Uncle likes to keep
White moustache
He never puts on anything
To blacken moustache
But
Always white do not mean
Peace
It may also indicate
Some deadly wars
Without red bloodsheds
Wars are planned
In White House of America
Awful white thoughts of status-quo
Always keep on embedding our living minds
Like the white cloth covers the dead body
There are holes
In the wholes
Holes
In fragments
So whole is never a whole
Of something
Fragment is
Always
Subject to much more
Much more fragmentations
Holes in the space
Pave the path
To the most awaited
Times to come
Which never come
In reality
There are holes
In the air
There are holes
In the air
Small holes
Big holes
The most confused
And the most fatal
Medium sized holes
The holes are white
As white as
Her lost handkerchief
Their divorce paper
Is white
Just as the hole in the sky
There are holes
In the air
Uncle likes to keep
White moustache
He never puts on anything
To blacken moustache
But
Always white do not mean
Peace
It may also indicate
Some deadly wars
Without red bloodsheds
Wars are planned
In White House of America
Awful white thoughts of status-quo
Always keep on embedding our living minds
Like the white cloth covers the dead body
There are holes
In the wholes
Holes
In fragments
So whole is never a whole
Of something
Fragment is
Always
Subject to much more
Much more fragmentations
Holes in the space
Pave the path
To the most awaited
Times to come
Which never come
In reality
There are holes
In the air
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Love Poem
Dialectical Love
I love you
Sometimes
I hate you
Sometimes
O honey
Forgive me-
I can’t love you all the times
If I do so
I shall have to
Hate you all the times
I love you
Sometimes
I hate you
Sometimes
O honey
Forgive me-
I can’t love you all the times
If I do so
I shall have to
Hate you all the times
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Mind of Graphity
Mind of Graphity
Let my mirror
Be destroyed
At a time when
Moon seems like
A maiden demon
Religion spirals
The villages
Like a gigantic serpent
Can you wipe out
The bloodstains
On the cloth of time
Where arrow means
Feathers of pigeon
Where frustrations fill
The gaps of desires
Silent prayers are being made
For infeasible wants
You speak high
When others are deaf
Sunflower sings
Song of sorrow
O reader
Gaze me
And
Read me
My image
Destroys
Itself
While you go on
Reading me
Letter by letter
Word by word
Let my mirror
Be destroyed
At a time when
Moon seems like
A maiden demon
Religion spirals
The villages
Like a gigantic serpent
Can you wipe out
The bloodstains
On the cloth of time
Where arrow means
Feathers of pigeon
Where frustrations fill
The gaps of desires
Silent prayers are being made
For infeasible wants
You speak high
When others are deaf
Sunflower sings
Song of sorrow
O reader
Gaze me
And
Read me
My image
Destroys
Itself
While you go on
Reading me
Letter by letter
Word by word
Poems of Darjeeling
Darjeeling Dreams
How can
Non-homogeneous scrawls
Of landslide
Be their epitaph?
And now
When History inside the uterus of struggle
Crawls like a-would-be-extinct
Volcano
You may not know
What do you want
To see
To mean
Exactly
Each eye sees dreams
No matter
How much feasible
The dreams are
Emancipation of sweat
And liberty of profit
Are juxtaposed
By the rulers
Dream-
Lazy fogs over
A dried up cascade
Hope that there is a well
In the desert
Real trusts are still alive
They can’t be burnt
By burning their effigy
Dreams
Are quite simple here
In steep hills of Darjeeling
Rhododendron is Rhododendron here
Though it may mean a lot of things in itself
Hollow pride
And concrete prejudices
Of prowess
Throw chilly powder
In the eyes of history
Songs of sting
Clatter across slogans
Clothes are flags
Now
Fingers plucking tea leaves
Are not trembling
But are screaming silently
World sips their tart scream
With bed tea
Each morn
They pluck their dreams
With each plucked tea leaf
They burn their lean desires
With the coal they throw inside
The engine of Toy Train
Pains are sang by
Alcoholic winds of waiting
Children are going school
Only to unlearn the menace
Known popularly as
Democracy
Dreams are seen
Here
Through
The eyes of
Burning belly
Destination Darjeeling
Destination is crystal clear today
To reach
The land of thunderbolt
Hills embraced by clouds
Skies as blue as our childhood imagination
Song of ambiguity
Is now blowing in the wind
When the policemen march
On the roads
Of silent explosions
Destination is very clear today
To reach the land of
Heritage train
And
Heritage hearts
Land of folklores
And
Innocent ecstasy
To reach
Land of Tea
And
Tears
Destination is clear today
As we head toward cloudy dreams
Where the primitive wishes
Become suburban Cocktail parties
Destination is very clear today
Open your cameras
Your notebooks
What you shall enjoy most
Is the aching joys
Of hills
Come on
Get ready
Sirs
Madams
How can
Non-homogeneous scrawls
Of landslide
Be their epitaph?
And now
When History inside the uterus of struggle
Crawls like a-would-be-extinct
Volcano
You may not know
What do you want
To see
To mean
Exactly
Each eye sees dreams
No matter
How much feasible
The dreams are
Emancipation of sweat
And liberty of profit
Are juxtaposed
By the rulers
Dream-
Lazy fogs over
A dried up cascade
Hope that there is a well
In the desert
Real trusts are still alive
They can’t be burnt
By burning their effigy
Dreams
Are quite simple here
In steep hills of Darjeeling
Rhododendron is Rhododendron here
Though it may mean a lot of things in itself
Hollow pride
And concrete prejudices
Of prowess
Throw chilly powder
In the eyes of history
Songs of sting
Clatter across slogans
Clothes are flags
Now
Fingers plucking tea leaves
Are not trembling
But are screaming silently
World sips their tart scream
With bed tea
Each morn
They pluck their dreams
With each plucked tea leaf
They burn their lean desires
With the coal they throw inside
The engine of Toy Train
Pains are sang by
Alcoholic winds of waiting
Children are going school
Only to unlearn the menace
Known popularly as
Democracy
Dreams are seen
Here
Through
The eyes of
Burning belly
Destination Darjeeling
Destination is crystal clear today
To reach
The land of thunderbolt
Hills embraced by clouds
Skies as blue as our childhood imagination
Song of ambiguity
Is now blowing in the wind
When the policemen march
On the roads
Of silent explosions
Destination is very clear today
To reach the land of
Heritage train
And
Heritage hearts
Land of folklores
And
Innocent ecstasy
To reach
Land of Tea
And
Tears
Destination is clear today
As we head toward cloudy dreams
Where the primitive wishes
Become suburban Cocktail parties
Destination is very clear today
Open your cameras
Your notebooks
What you shall enjoy most
Is the aching joys
Of hills
Come on
Get ready
Sirs
Madams
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)