Thursday 21 June 2007

What is that crack on the face ?

What is that crack on the face ?
A burrow ?
Rather a sneaky trench.
You call it a smile ?!
I know
That is amiability.
But why don’t your eyes keep quiet?
Discipline them
Or they get out of control
Why not tear them out ?
Throw them on the rocks
So that they would never sprout.
They are to die with this century.



-1992

Not all flowers are lilies

Not all flowers are lilies, indeed
The angels of beauty.
And remember
Not all flowers are roses either.
The angels wake up\
When the sun goes down,
While the roses stand his heat
Burning with him.
Given the choice
Whom would you prefer ?
It is not the question of
You body and soul.
I would advice you
To be true to yourself.



-1992

Neon bulb with a future

Neon bulb with a future
Burning on the other side of the road
On the street,
Cars and bikes sneer at each other.
It is going to be war.
The few, waiting to cross the road
Are totally at a loss.
They look at each other
The look of a fading forget-me-not.
They stay
And walk down the street;
On this side of the road.



-1992

One day

One day
My ears will rain into your heart,
Soaking it,
And would flow out
Drawing white papers in crimson violet.


I will keep on crying
Till the husky murmers of the deep violet,
Rattling the walls of a million hearts,
Answers wordless queries
Of awe-stricken fluttering eyes.


I wouldn’t stop crying
Till the raging sea,
Kissing the dampness off my hear,
Floats me over in heavy music.
One day…..
My tears will rain into your heart


My being shall be the fuel for your burning eyes.
Fire, soft as a lily
With its cool breath,
Shall melt the frost, settled in my consciousness;
And spread over the waters
Setting the deep violet flaming,
And creeping into the eyes
Of the panting multitude
Shall soon melt their frozen consciousness.


-1992

Defeat me, Would you ?

Defeat me, Would you?
One has to rise from the fire
And have burning eyes for that
Your eyes are not even embers
Better forget about that.
And lets talk about reconciliation
Beliefs wont shelter you.
You are not the winner
Nor am i.
Disguisting, to pine away
Letting nobody win.
So, when fights take us nowhere
Lets talk about reconciliation


-1992

It is silence

It is silence
It is peace
Even the sounds suffice.
Music in the air, Music in the mind,
Music in the eyes
You need only to hear.

Rushing, searching, screaming
Shudders all around
Wait! and listen
There’s music in the air,
In the mind, in the eyes….
The burden must be heavy
But doesn’t it caress you?

Peace sinks in
Music in the eyes
Plaintive, overflows.

-1991

Why do i feel like crying

Why do I feel like crying
When tears fail me?
What’s the lump in my throat?
I try to spit it out each morning
But, as a mist gets into me
In five different perspectives
Is condensed and stuck in me.
I hear, see and absorb.
Each morning again I wake up
With the fire inside me
That seldom burns
But chokes with its smoke.
My heart, you fail.
And my mind, you laugh.
I am nothing, nobody here.
A prisoner to escape bound.
Blood boiling in to my eyes;
When the hour is come
I shall spit my eyes out.
Till then
I smoke, scatter and dissolve
A prisoner to logic bound

-1990

How could you plan to die,you fraud

How could you plan to die, you fraud
Without consulting me ?
To beat me ?
I wouldn’t forgive you


Your heart gave way
Little by little
I didn’t consent for the last vein
To break.
It persisted
It had my orders.
When I was away
You spy, you did it!
Another worm.


With that lingeing grin
You shall not burn
I won’t have you rise from the fire
To burn me.
I’ll make a man out of your skeleton-
A man with fine bones-
Try and flee, if you can
Bastard!
I’ll have you still.


-1991

For My Grandmother

For My Grandmother


She died young
Her mind crippled
Grey, skin crumpled,
She died young.


Fire in her hair
Embers her eyes
Swaying slides of air…..
That unsympathetic morning
She tucked a blanket around me.


Steadily, no face left
The skull gleam
And no Hamlet persists………
What is left of the toe
I keep as a marker
And note down:
She died young.


-1991

New faces with old eyes

New faces with old eyes
Slow comprehension defiant.
Nerves run out of rhyme
And no dying.


Deep gaspings.
Rutling air
Makes only blank eyes.


Smell of raw earth
Invoke dry fumes
Scattered lazily
From an extinguished fire.


Nothing comes from nothing.


Striving alone remains.



-1991

Another grim day

Another grim day
The morning glories
Have not opened their eyes.
My mild day, digs up your wrath.
Not that I blame you my lover,
But the open doors tell me
Of something
I wish….. was left unsaid

Anemone flowers

Anemone flowers
Dripping blood.
Don’t touch them!
Not even to dig them out.
Let’s raise a fire


I planted them myself
Thinking they were chrysanthemums.
Now the green swallows the rain
To change the blood of her lover
To bloody Anemones,
Venus was mistaken.


-1991

No more Asters for me

No more Asters for me
To stink in my flowervase
They are better in mud
Don’t ask me why I plucked them
One simply has to, you see.


You look bewildered my friend,
Don’t pluck at your guitar so hard
It’s your turn now
To go plucking Asters.


-1991

Those dark heads before me never turn back

Those dark heads before me never turn back.
But they reflect the cofusion
Revolting in their brain layers.
The unknowable weaves collages.
Each picture is a question
And they gag me…….
The incomprehensible creeps into my mind
And cataract bulges out of my eyes
When the burning darkness envelopes me
I lose all notions of time.


-1990

Diffidence

Diffidence

There is a frog in my room
Throwing its eyes back
It stares at me.


My wellwishers, Hm…..
They say,
He is the Prince of the fairytale
Is he….?


His flat face and rolling eyes
Makes his slimy presence felt.
I kicked him out more than once
But he would always come back.
I loathe him!
Rather I’m afraid of him…….


I want to dishearten him
And he would gladly call him a fool
But his broad chin and closed mouth
Shows his contempt.


I’m afraid
Everything will go wrong…….


-1990

It was dripping pearls,from heaven

It was dripping pearls, from heaven
My mother was groaning.
Why ? I wonder.
I was with you.
Looking into your eyes
And finding me there,
My heart leapt in ecstasy.
Soon the drops fell thick
And blurred my,sight
Your face faded away.
I couldn’t weep
But lost my sound
And starting losing my way,
My life and soul.
My mother kept groaning.
Her misery-
I couldn’t sympathise,
But only mope myself
And brood over the day
In the loss of my self
On the past in its way.
I’m now lost and forlorn.
Mother, she still groan………



-1988

O Night,how rich and fair art thou !

O Night,how rich and fair art thou !
The eye that devours thy beauty
Feels his soul crammed with manna.
The unpleasant swain in the dark
Feels his mother in thee.
The song thou whistle past the wind
Invites him to lie on thy lap.
Thou sings the lullaby, and take him to sleep
He dreams of beauty and dreams forever.
To inhale the odour of thy abyss
To destroy the sense of helplessness,
O Night! take me to thy depths;
Lull me to sleep
And let me sleep forever.


-1988

The touch of affection

The touch of affection
The aching need of what I sought
Leaves me out of all the fairs
My mask, too fine and serene,
My smile ugly,words worthless,
The mask is torn to pieces.
Still I wear a self conscious laugh
Facing the world out of its beauty
To frown with disdain.




-1987