Friday, December 25, 2009

Fires and Ashes

A Series Poem

Fires and Ashes-1

Our struggles

Burnt alive

And ashes bear them in their fertile belly

We the offspring of

The mere ashes
Sing the song of fire

Running in the roads
Sleeping in the houses

Missing in the jungles
Crying in the hearts

Grinding in the workplace

Ashes are always loved by fires

Our sultry bloods
Are soaked by
The ashes of our forgetful histories

As the motions stop at a standstill

Poor ashes are loitering in the market
In fear of motions

Matured smokes
Risen from dull ashes

Bite the naive thoughts

They are scared of this eerie brightness

Of this hasty century

That is swallowed stealthily by
A dark night

I can see

Inside ashes

Ashes of your forgetting, remembrance

And dreams


Of your being

Fires and Ashes -2

Ash is important

As every fire
Succeeded by


Fires and Ashes -3

Ashes don’t speak
To all

They speak a lot


The fire

Which generates them

Fires and Ashes -4


Is the metamorphosis of fire



Ashes are dangerous, too

Fires and Ashes -5

Fires burns the wood

Fire is now dead

Still, wood of greed burns

With flares of
Absence of fire

Ash burns the wood
Fire is not dead

Dark woods
Only to be burnt

Again and again

Fires and Ashes -6

They are angry

They are badly
Annoyed by upsurge of fire

They don’t like fire

They like kicking the ass of fire

But they can’t

They kick the ash

 Fires and Ashes- 7
 Pull out

Tongue of fire
 And presume

That fire can neither speak

Nor eat
Nor vomit

What will happen to them

From now onwards

If fire start speaking, eating and vomiting

Through the mouths of

 Fires and Ashes- 8

I’m nothing

But dusts

I want to


I want to



I’m nothing

But dusts

Of continuous ashes
Of my squirmy time
Wrinkles of History

There are

On the face of your history
On the face of my history

And we were born
Inside those wrinkles of our histories

We reside like hungry parasites

In the slums
Of history’s old body

We consume slang living with our cheap wine

But alive

History has not come to an end
It has just begun:
What’s inside your mind?

Tuesday, December 08, 2009

From within the Pores

From within the Pores

From within the pores
Of time

Come out


They have been pushed up
By those
whose names
Are not written in history

They don’t have name
They are people

Sunday, November 15, 2009

This is (not) here

This Is (Not) Here

Hanging before a silhouette of
Your quiet road
Are you there
S.t.i.l.l ...

Unless the hidden matrix of human factories
Explodes like a human bomb
The fight
Against artificiality
Makes no meaning

The rhythm

And Superego
Forgot to return from brothel

Do you remember
We had dreamt of losing something
O friend
Before the journey began?



But why should we

We can, But why should we?

One fine morning
We can leave
Our homes
In search of a new home
To die in

We can sing through
Your vocal chords
To stop singing at all

We can blossom
Deserted caves

We can run away
From our own
Fires of revolt

We surrender before them
And cry for shelter

We can hammer nail
On our foot
For we had have
Enough of walking

We can inject slavery
Inside our mouths
To be hearer

We can easily lose
One more war
At the cost of a thousand more wars
To be won

We can
We can
We can

But why should we?

Saturday, November 07, 2009

Green Music

Green Music

And bring
My guitar

They are going to dance

I ought to sing
A song which
They want to listen

They are my children
The leaves of roadside tree

Its raining

As if nobody wished rain
This year

But who may forget
The rain
Of a pathetic night in one’s own life

Don’t disturb
She’s still sleeping

She was fighting whole the night
Against tremor

She knew
What is
The difference between
Life and death
That is why she fights
Even for others

She saved the entire village
From a landslide:
She is tree
Of that remote village hill

Friday, November 06, 2009

On MetaEarth

Many Earths

You can create as many earths as you like

No matter
Outside or within this earth
No matter
How mach big or little those shall be

You may not listen to
The pathetic farewell song of
Birds flying towards south

Whether you ask the silent cascade
For its opinion on your opinion of creating new earths

This ever spinning earth has
Always loved to see you
Multiplying your goals, exponentially
Amplifying your dreams, horribly

And, there is ample of space
In this liberal universe

Your ambitious red eyes
Can’t see wounds
That you have gifted to this earth
With ‘zero greed’

Human have always misused its technology
To exploit others:
The educated parasites have
Started gnawing continuously
The crust, fat, muscular tissues, bones
Of earth

Accumulation of properties can make you “rich”
But at cost of
Earth’s silent cry

You wish passionately to multiply
And multiply

Ok, you multiply
Your desires
And markets

But do you know
That this anomic earth
Is bored of your hungry needs?

You can go anywhere
And build your earth of your choice

You can do anything you like
But you don’t have the option
Ro choose between
Your lunatic life and

Your ego flies over
The empty nests of some newly extinct birds

Whatever big number
After you multiply something with something
You are badly in need of ‘one’

You are deeply aware
That you are gradually losing
Your ‘One’
-The Earth

Monday, October 26, 2009


Music Flows River

Music is the only storyteller
That glorifies the story of dumb times

Rhythm of conversation between granny and grandson
Fills the material sounds with silence

Silence glows like a distant planet
When music
Touches the unseen blades of hungry words

Music is drunk like wine by them
Who never
Fight own war
For they are always warriors of others

Let there be music
In every solemn villages
Forgotten by dynamic civilization

And now- music flows river
From the top of the hills of their pains

Wish You Were Here

Wish You Were Here

“O babe, babe
It’s a wild world”-Cat Stevens

Believe me- I smile at your image
Just to embed my distress

Feeling down
In this gloomy evening

Only if you were here
With all your strengths
Then with all my weaknesses
Would have felt warmth
Of meta-emotion of still cornerstones

Looking at moon
I burn my sights
So that
I could imagine there’s no country
No Hell
No Heaven
And no walls

Speech turns off
From the words
Of ever advertising market

No hell seems more hellious
Than this
Paradise of paradoxical greed

I need you to make me able to heal me

I feel like a winner
When I think I’ve nothing to lose

I feel like a winner
When I forget to win

I feel down when I’m not able to see
What else always lingers on my back?

Wish You Were Here
Wish to see my dark side

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Courage of Saying No

This wild and beautiful world is suffocating
For so many Yes’s

Nobody says no to No’s
Nobody bothers
Who dies of his gorgeous Yes
Her beautiful Yes

Yes to the Yes’s
Yes to the No’s
Yes is Yes everywhere
It’s alright

Everybody thinks that everything is in order
But they merely pretend of perceiving Yes

Everything isn’t right
But we say-
Everything is gonna be alright
Ok Ok

And now can you see the dangerous face of Yes
That rapes the dignity of No’s

Every Yes isn’t always positive

Who’ll say No to content minds?
Who’ll say No to flirt masks?
Who’ll say No to seducing prejudices?
Who’ll say No to ill myths?
Who’ll say No to established truths?
Who’ll say No to blind eyes?
Who’ll say No to horrific peace?
Who’ll say No to toxic democracy?
Who’ll say No to paralysed development?
Who’ll say No to barbaric civilization?
Who’ll say No to dead dreams?

The problem the world faces
Is not drugs
Nor Global Warming

Almost everybody is master in art of saying Yes to the world
The vacuum of courage of saying No
Is gnawing all real Yes’s

Tuesday, October 20, 2009


The Divorce Paper

Before the silence
Inside forbidden cradle
Just as surreal dusts of
A cheap cigarette
A proletariat ash tray, old

After the aftermath
When silence broke its silence
The ideology and practice
Were signing
The divorce paper
In the court of ‘market’

The gigolo storm came
Like a loser
Leaning head

The old storm
Is now
In deep remorse

The gizmo flower holds
A handful of toxic air
Inside its heart
To die
An early metadeath

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Peoples Poem

Torn Apart

They have given us
Their specs
So that
We see through
Their visions

Encroached are
Not only our eyes
But minds and brains too

Sensibilities have already
Succumbed to lunatic injuries

Liar tongues
Spit the words of
Commitment and sincerity

Peoples embedded
By hypocrite space-time

Nothing is true here
To truth

Todays sing Swan-Song
To a tomorrow which’ll
Embrace us with
The real freedom
True emotions
And accurate sense

Ivory castles and corrupted palaces
Are seen being decayed
Brick by brick
Blood by blood
Boundary by boundary

All the time
We were torn apart

They tore us apart

Tore apart
Our labours
Our houses
Our relations
Our struggles
Our histories

They and their existence
Are torn apart

Is there any whip of oppression
Which shall stop
The forces of resistance?

The answer is with you
My dear