shroud over her eyes
On a desolate,summer night of july
I roam, under the shrouded sky....
Wind blows ,rather,flows ,
Frisks,kisses my face,
.... her lifeless lips are dry .....
Wind , not cool wind that promises rain,
Not warm , summer's pugnacious wind,
Just a current of air ,bored,forlorn,
Hissing contempt,airing flippant scorn,
(her lifeless lips are dry,
my sense of nature turns wry. )
Disgusted with the parched earth ,as the prude waits on.....
Waits for the tenacious lover to cry
As she puts sun's heartburning passion to trial...
Solar tears form a cover of white cumulus ,
Only post-coital breath vaporizes into nimbus, (rain bearing)
When shall the thirsty earth moan and sigh !
Would she relent ,or fate offers a dry july ?...
Meanwhile,the foppish moon beatifically glows,
Reflecting borrowed sunlight, his beauty shows,
That pockmarked,freckled face is all alight,
Virgin earth is so besotted with the sight.
The peacock runs after her, round and round
But his attendant –train is nowhere to be found
Heavenly aurora through a peephole visible,
Infatuating ,maddening,breathtaking spectacle.
As if, of my beloved,only the shining buxom seen,
Rest of her contours hidden behind the chiffon screen....
Attracting each other ,guided by newton’s laws,
Cosmic flirts forget their moral vows,
But lethargic cumulus linger on,in a torpid state,
Oblivious to the lovers’ and to my fate,
And I,i revel in my solitude,hoping
against hope,for peace in palestine ,
After all,like me, all they have in the world,is time...
Loneliness imperfect .
A frog is hopping on the road,
Basking in moon's glory.
(Slimy,ugly bastard,)
Reflecting the sun-moon story.
Who burns ,but who glows,
Who cares if wind blows or flows,
Cosmic gods who shamelessly flirt !
or the seraphim ,woo dwells in hell ?
All i wish is palestians well.....
O mother earth,unwed,virgin mother !
Progeny craves for rain,not celestial amour,
Though not on the horizon,he plays truant,
The golden orb burns on,we bear the brunt
Coxcomb moon cant give us lives,
Natural laws dictate,earth should be the solar wife.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
MOOD POST OFFICE
MOOD POST OFFICE
day finally over,six,
gently screams
that steadfast clock….
disinterested,unconcerned
the sincerely lazy lizard
just sleeps off....
once again, the sun sets,
sets, to rise again,
rise,wearing the same garb,
to perform the same job.
who pays the sun?
why does it burn ?
day -in,and day-out
whose race it runs?
where is the smoke?
someone stop the damn clock.
sun obeys the time
or,time sun
whirlpool in the chronological drain,
where my dullard life churns.
Intoxicating to watch the languid reptile,
reposing on the wall, while the 'hands' move a mile
ever lethargic,even i have moved some files,
unending work ! arrives another stockpile.
enough,my soul revolts,
enough for now,no more,
its curtains for the meaningful day,
await me, frivolities galore.
Languorous efforts at humour all fail
in the vacuum of inactivity, do we sail……..(we is me n lizzardo named JUGGA)
another joint rolled,
another glass downed,
might burn someplace else,
forlorn,“my sun” has drowned,
in the vast waters of loneliness,
who says he shrieked?
i never heard a sound
rise again morrow,shall
the proud,obdurate orb
at six,dutyful,dutybound.
the blackness
of emptiness,scares me,
the silence of the dark,
shocks: bleeds ,the quietude
of this painful silence.
kills me,kill,the tyranny of time,
the iodine ,on my wounds,
vanishes, sublimes !...
no thought to sleep with,
no toil to get up for,
than to rise with pain hangover
better to live-on
in this state of stupor….
Six,the stopped clock ( who stopped it?)
has written over all its face,
(but) phlegmatic time follows its own pace......
sun is up on horizon,performing its duty,
blazing golden yellow
in all his splendour,all his beauty,
i cursed aloud in sleep, as i felt sunlight
get back to business,this finishes the night,
the lizzard sleeps on,idly,
disinterested,unconcerned,
only for the workaholics,
does the hydrogen burn,
time is,time was,and time
shall be for ever
blessed are those who live-on in stupor......
slaves of time,shall continue to labour
stopped clocks shall bring, lesser mortals, no favour .......
day finally over,six,
gently screams
that steadfast clock….
disinterested,unconcerned
the sincerely lazy lizard
just sleeps off....
once again, the sun sets,
sets, to rise again,
rise,wearing the same garb,
to perform the same job.
who pays the sun?
why does it burn ?
day -in,and day-out
whose race it runs?
where is the smoke?
someone stop the damn clock.
sun obeys the time
or,time sun
whirlpool in the chronological drain,
where my dullard life churns.
Intoxicating to watch the languid reptile,
reposing on the wall, while the 'hands' move a mile
ever lethargic,even i have moved some files,
unending work ! arrives another stockpile.
enough,my soul revolts,
enough for now,no more,
its curtains for the meaningful day,
await me, frivolities galore.
Languorous efforts at humour all fail
in the vacuum of inactivity, do we sail……..(we is me n lizzardo named JUGGA)
another joint rolled,
another glass downed,
might burn someplace else,
forlorn,“my sun” has drowned,
in the vast waters of loneliness,
who says he shrieked?
i never heard a sound
rise again morrow,shall
the proud,obdurate orb
at six,dutyful,dutybound.
the blackness
of emptiness,scares me,
the silence of the dark,
shocks: bleeds ,the quietude
of this painful silence.
kills me,kill,the tyranny of time,
the iodine ,on my wounds,
vanishes, sublimes !...
no thought to sleep with,
no toil to get up for,
than to rise with pain hangover
better to live-on
in this state of stupor….
Six,the stopped clock ( who stopped it?)
has written over all its face,
(but) phlegmatic time follows its own pace......
sun is up on horizon,performing its duty,
blazing golden yellow
in all his splendour,all his beauty,
i cursed aloud in sleep, as i felt sunlight
get back to business,this finishes the night,
the lizzard sleeps on,idly,
disinterested,unconcerned,
only for the workaholics,
does the hydrogen burn,
time is,time was,and time
shall be for ever
blessed are those who live-on in stupor......
slaves of time,shall continue to labour
stopped clocks shall bring, lesser mortals, no favour .......
Monday, June 8, 2009
the fall of ROY
the fall of ROY
Roy,famous a s andrew symonds,has fallen prey to the vicious onslaught of the bourgeoisie values (like management ,professionalism,discipline and team spirit etc.) on the society in general ,and cricket in particular (wat wid the dhonis ,strausses and pups at helm).in deep anguish ,i lament the loss of symmo,who brought gusto the field,everytime he walked on it......
tragically,unceremoniously, falls the colossus,andrew symonds
cricket australiaz uncut,unpolished ,crazy,coloured diamond......
ousted for violating petty team orders,oh wat a loss to the game
when left with pedestrian talent,cricket needs such huge names.
most lethal with the willow,acrobatic on the field , wiliest of bowlers,
but quite lenient with his drinks,and much too profligate with howlers......
ball's best hitter after richards,this few would dispute,
as elektric in a bar as in the field,a sledger of repute.
with king warnie's era over,and the pigeon havin flown,
the explosive gilli having retired,and the giant haydos gone,
haven't suckers taken over the cricket down under,
very high on rhetoric and pride,but devoid of thunder.
the Pups and the punters now call the shots
professionalism,discipline must-have for team spots
with the fucking middle class' advent all over the place
this wild flower's antics were deemed loss of face
When his own mates(pup), stabbed him in the back,
for boozing,fishing,rioting,symmo ,started getting flaks,
afflicted with hubris,he cudnt stem the slide
recklessness overcame sanity,the more and more he tried
insatiable hunger,and aggression unalloyed ,that effected riots on the field,
the trapeze artist leaps, the bludgeoning bat,did great victories yield,
grew insidiously into ego demons, that took over his soul,
the warrior became a drunkard,causing everyday new brawl.
the "obnoxious weed" called him a monkey,maybe he was right, after all,
he can fly and fight as the monkey god,hanuman, even after his fall
Uncouth,untamed,a perennial bad boy,
The harshesh of the big bullies,such was ROY.
## bhajji was dubbed as OBNOXIOUS WEED by MATT HAYDEN......
## pup is micheal clark.....roy's chum,who didnt defend him,later stabbed him
punter is PONTING....
Roy,famous a s andrew symonds,has fallen prey to the vicious onslaught of the bourgeoisie values (like management ,professionalism,discipline and team spirit etc.) on the society in general ,and cricket in particular (wat wid the dhonis ,strausses and pups at helm).in deep anguish ,i lament the loss of symmo,who brought gusto the field,everytime he walked on it......
tragically,unceremoniously, falls the colossus,andrew symonds
cricket australiaz uncut,unpolished ,crazy,coloured diamond......
ousted for violating petty team orders,oh wat a loss to the game
when left with pedestrian talent,cricket needs such huge names.
most lethal with the willow,acrobatic on the field , wiliest of bowlers,
but quite lenient with his drinks,and much too profligate with howlers......
ball's best hitter after richards,this few would dispute,
as elektric in a bar as in the field,a sledger of repute.
with king warnie's era over,and the pigeon havin flown,
the explosive gilli having retired,and the giant haydos gone,
haven't suckers taken over the cricket down under,
very high on rhetoric and pride,but devoid of thunder.
the Pups and the punters now call the shots
professionalism,discipline must-have for team spots
with the fucking middle class' advent all over the place
this wild flower's antics were deemed loss of face
When his own mates(pup), stabbed him in the back,
for boozing,fishing,rioting,symmo ,started getting flaks,
afflicted with hubris,he cudnt stem the slide
recklessness overcame sanity,the more and more he tried
insatiable hunger,and aggression unalloyed ,that effected riots on the field,
the trapeze artist leaps, the bludgeoning bat,did great victories yield,
grew insidiously into ego demons, that took over his soul,
the warrior became a drunkard,causing everyday new brawl.
the "obnoxious weed" called him a monkey,maybe he was right, after all,
he can fly and fight as the monkey god,hanuman, even after his fall
Uncouth,untamed,a perennial bad boy,
The harshesh of the big bullies,such was ROY.
## bhajji was dubbed as OBNOXIOUS WEED by MATT HAYDEN......
## pup is micheal clark.....roy's chum,who didnt defend him,later stabbed him
punter is PONTING....
Saturday, February 28, 2009
i wanna die young
I wanna die YOUNG
Springs and summers have passed me by,
This autumnal melancholy questions me why
And what is still there to live for ?
Those good times are not coming back anymore.
Then why hang on for the long,lonely winter ahead,
For which even nature preapares, their leaves ,the trees shed,
While animals hibernate,why should I brave the cold?
My story is long over,nothing remains unanswered, untold.
I wanna die young,though not youthful anymore, am I,
Convoluted,jumbled,meaningless life ,a veritable pigsty,
My youth and the happy seasons didn’t coincide
Exciting adolescence ,then a steep,irreversible,down slide,
I never sinned,hurt no one,broke not one heart,
Pray tell me,then why did He overturn my apple cart.
Maybe some error resulted in this lesser- man made,
For His mistake ,with tears of blood ,this imperfection paid.
I absolve u and all,and Almighty of my impending end, (mediocrities everywhere,i absolve u)
N' depart my love,since our love shant ever be mend,
My unclaimed heart still writhes in pain,
Not u, my selfless ,ceaseless love is to blame,
When the prime of my life gave me heartbreak and exile,
Perforated intellect,insipid work,and disasters stockpile,
I give in as I see, no more tenure on earth wud I enjoy,
Its some grand design,almighty's sadist ploy.
I am a "dead man walking"; reconciled, waiting for angels to come,
Its not the END I fear,just that the last few miles are troublesome.
So as I fag-up my last joint ,and enjoy the last bout of booze,
The angels wait,as the last drops of my life,out, does ooze.
Self-willed tears in my eyes,and forced smile on my lips,
Still on that divine countenance ,this lover -lost trips.
Promise,as I float in my waters ,and reach the far off lands,
Postcards from every unknown,to you would this `'lovetrotter' send.
*DEAD MAN WALKING is a slang term shouted by the prison guards when the convict is being taken frm his cell to the execution chamber.
** thanx sidartha mishra...who silenced a lady who was showing concern over his chain smoking,in goa...AUNTY,i wanna die young!.....that was a magic moment....
Springs and summers have passed me by,
This autumnal melancholy questions me why
And what is still there to live for ?
Those good times are not coming back anymore.
Then why hang on for the long,lonely winter ahead,
For which even nature preapares, their leaves ,the trees shed,
While animals hibernate,why should I brave the cold?
My story is long over,nothing remains unanswered, untold.
I wanna die young,though not youthful anymore, am I,
Convoluted,jumbled,meaningless life ,a veritable pigsty,
My youth and the happy seasons didn’t coincide
Exciting adolescence ,then a steep,irreversible,down slide,
I never sinned,hurt no one,broke not one heart,
Pray tell me,then why did He overturn my apple cart.
Maybe some error resulted in this lesser- man made,
For His mistake ,with tears of blood ,this imperfection paid.
I absolve u and all,and Almighty of my impending end, (mediocrities everywhere,i absolve u)
N' depart my love,since our love shant ever be mend,
My unclaimed heart still writhes in pain,
Not u, my selfless ,ceaseless love is to blame,
When the prime of my life gave me heartbreak and exile,
Perforated intellect,insipid work,and disasters stockpile,
I give in as I see, no more tenure on earth wud I enjoy,
Its some grand design,almighty's sadist ploy.
I am a "dead man walking"; reconciled, waiting for angels to come,
Its not the END I fear,just that the last few miles are troublesome.
So as I fag-up my last joint ,and enjoy the last bout of booze,
The angels wait,as the last drops of my life,out, does ooze.
Self-willed tears in my eyes,and forced smile on my lips,
Still on that divine countenance ,this lover -lost trips.
Promise,as I float in my waters ,and reach the far off lands,
Postcards from every unknown,to you would this `'lovetrotter' send.
*DEAD MAN WALKING is a slang term shouted by the prison guards when the convict is being taken frm his cell to the execution chamber.
** thanx sidartha mishra...who silenced a lady who was showing concern over his chain smoking,in goa...AUNTY,i wanna die young!.....that was a magic moment....
Saturday, February 21, 2009
H.O.P.E.
HOPE
This is to FREEBEE......a stranger,total one at that....she gave me the assignment last nite ,to write something on HOPE....n this is wat i instantly and instictively liked abt her....uncomplicated passion,simple aggression...
Everytime something bad happened,as it did so often ,
They told me, the worst is over,but HIS heart didn’t soften,
I cried,I prayed ,AH ! I hoped in vain , (FOR A TURNAROUND IN FORTUNE)
But each time HE topped the previous, with a bitter-more pain.
So ALMIGHTY,help your own self ,with your palliative of hope , OR
So Almighty ,stick up your ass, your palliative of hope(if u r a disbeliever)
To keep living,I invoke my pains ,and heavily do dope.(with my pains,as they say,pain is the best f addiction)
With HIS own weapon ,I purge myself of HIM,
Am no longer subject to HIS sadist whim.
I ,now, HOPE, happiness never ever crosses my path.
I HOPE someday Almighty incurs my wrath.
To free one and all of his rule, is my aim,
I envision a world ,where nobody takes His name.
setting: this angst against ALMIGHTY is heartfelt.....he gives u pain,so that u pray and acknowledge his superiority....HOPE is his weapon.....Prayer is our bribe......the above poem is not complete in itself,bt i will keep RANTING and RAVING against him.....MILTON built a powerful case against ALMIGHTY bt lacked courage and conviction to take it to its logical conclusion.....by GOD,i wont shy away.....
**BTW if anyone has any idea how to expand H.O.P.E.....tell me......
like......Have Optimism PUT Paid....etc etc
or...........High Optimism Pays.....something like this.....
This is to FREEBEE......a stranger,total one at that....she gave me the assignment last nite ,to write something on HOPE....n this is wat i instantly and instictively liked abt her....uncomplicated passion,simple aggression...
Everytime something bad happened,as it did so often ,
They told me, the worst is over,but HIS heart didn’t soften,
I cried,I prayed ,AH ! I hoped in vain , (FOR A TURNAROUND IN FORTUNE)
But each time HE topped the previous, with a bitter-more pain.
So ALMIGHTY,help your own self ,with your palliative of hope , OR
So Almighty ,stick up your ass, your palliative of hope(if u r a disbeliever)
To keep living,I invoke my pains ,and heavily do dope.(with my pains,as they say,pain is the best f addiction)
With HIS own weapon ,I purge myself of HIM,
Am no longer subject to HIS sadist whim.
I ,now, HOPE, happiness never ever crosses my path.
I HOPE someday Almighty incurs my wrath.
To free one and all of his rule, is my aim,
I envision a world ,where nobody takes His name.
setting: this angst against ALMIGHTY is heartfelt.....he gives u pain,so that u pray and acknowledge his superiority....HOPE is his weapon.....Prayer is our bribe......the above poem is not complete in itself,bt i will keep RANTING and RAVING against him.....MILTON built a powerful case against ALMIGHTY bt lacked courage and conviction to take it to its logical conclusion.....by GOD,i wont shy away.....
**BTW if anyone has any idea how to expand H.O.P.E.....tell me......
like......Have Optimism PUT Paid....etc etc
or...........High Optimism Pays.....something like this.....
Friday, February 20, 2009
THAT WAS just A DREAM
THAT WAS just A DREAM
setting: a lost lover,hallucinating and dreaming ,frustrated as hell.....blaming himself,and yet no one in particular....and doesnt even know wat is he talkin abt.....still wishes his sweatheart ,the best o life.....n has compromised with his life ,knowing well that pain is his to savour....
That was just a dream.
I saw you,and me
Walking, hand in hand
On a dark,lonely beach.
Hell o' heaven,and heav'n o' hell
All well within our reach.
With unenjoyed pleasures and unfelt pain,
Lightening,thunder and heavy rain,
Lost ourselves in the darkness,
Feeling deaf...blind...... lame.
Silent us,no syllable said,
The touch conveyed it all.
I saw in her shallow eyes,
A burning meteor fall.
Wish! for her everlasting love had i wished
,Those dry,timid,trembling lips had i kissed.
And tho' my love was willin',luck didnt smile,
God didnt let me,walk the last love mile.
Alas,saw water splash across her face,
tears come out as the meteor falls in the lake.
That was the moment i lost the plot,
Asked god,please let those tears forever stop.
God granted my prayers,hadn't i seen a meteor fall?
Her tears became pearls,as was my call.
But the tears of the world carry a constant weight,
N' so i cry ,and i cry all my life,to compensate.
That was just a dream i saw,that was just a dream,
But it was the only one i have ever seeen.
And tho' we were together never so cosy,
and no meteor ever fell into your lake,
Yet i wish myself all your tears ,
My pearls and roses you take.
Live well your life,live fully too your dreams
Smile from my fate ,this lover lost screams.
THIS IS to J'....my muse....who was never mine....then wy do i miss her if she doesnt exist...
setting: a lost lover,hallucinating and dreaming ,frustrated as hell.....blaming himself,and yet no one in particular....and doesnt even know wat is he talkin abt.....still wishes his sweatheart ,the best o life.....n has compromised with his life ,knowing well that pain is his to savour....
That was just a dream.
I saw you,and me
Walking, hand in hand
On a dark,lonely beach.
Hell o' heaven,and heav'n o' hell
All well within our reach.
With unenjoyed pleasures and unfelt pain,
Lightening,thunder and heavy rain,
Lost ourselves in the darkness,
Feeling deaf...blind...... lame.
Silent us,no syllable said,
The touch conveyed it all.
I saw in her shallow eyes,
A burning meteor fall.
Wish! for her everlasting love had i wished
,Those dry,timid,trembling lips had i kissed.
And tho' my love was willin',luck didnt smile,
God didnt let me,walk the last love mile.
Alas,saw water splash across her face,
tears come out as the meteor falls in the lake.
That was the moment i lost the plot,
Asked god,please let those tears forever stop.
God granted my prayers,hadn't i seen a meteor fall?
Her tears became pearls,as was my call.
But the tears of the world carry a constant weight,
N' so i cry ,and i cry all my life,to compensate.
That was just a dream i saw,that was just a dream,
But it was the only one i have ever seeen.
And tho' we were together never so cosy,
and no meteor ever fell into your lake,
Yet i wish myself all your tears ,
My pearls and roses you take.
Live well your life,live fully too your dreams
Smile from my fate ,this lover lost screams.
THIS IS to J'....my muse....who was never mine....then wy do i miss her if she doesnt exist...
Thursday, February 5, 2009
PAUSE o MEN ! its PUBerty time !
PAUSE o MEN ! its PUBerty time !
SETTING: bold ,fearless and agitated women taking on the right-wing activists (terrorists) of sriram sene,who recently attacked a mangalore pub ,and are threatening to marry off the dating couples on Valentine's day.These custodians of indian culture want dress codes for women and want them to behave as per the norms of indian tradition.They resort to vandalism and hooliganism ,in order to gain cheap publicity and want to make careers out of all this business.Women ask hem abt the real feminine issues,and their and the country's track record on these.As M K Gandhi used to say,one can tell the health of the society by checking the pulses of its women.
.......O misguided,outdated zealots, out-of-work publicity hunters,
The self-appointed cultural policemen, conscience-keepers of MOTHER India !
Sixty years of political independence, a five thousand years old civilization ,
Pity ! You can still make political careers,invoking fear and paranoia.
Society does not need WATCHDOGS in these SLUMDOG times(2009),
That all enjoy their human rights, the freedom bell chimes,
Is the cry of the hour,and should be the order of the day,
Such vermins and parasites as you,are kept at bay.
Grow up ,gray,mature,reach your puberty now,
Nation still tolerates this vandalism, fundamentalism,i don’t get it,why or how?
You object to boys and girls,in malls, walking hand in hand, (ashok gehlot)
The WESTERN attires of jeans and skirts,your moral sense offends,
You cant stand lovers celebrating the valentine’s day,
Blame western outfits for rapes and eve- teasing,sayin' that’s how we pay.
U don’t want us to smoke and drink,or go out to pubs
Don’t want us to work or travel at night, even in busy metro hubs. (Sheila dikhit)
Misplaced are your priorities,on the wrong trees you bark,
Since ages have such people ,kept women in dark.
Girls are still killed in wombs ,the skewed sex- ratio shows,
Or to reduce the burden,forced into early nuptial vows.
Dowry- seeking and domestic violence, over the years ,have only grown,
Bound in chains ,hidden in purdah,Us , you think,some property you own?
What ' surnames' do we keep,raises such hue and cry, (sanjay and priya Dutt)
Biased property rights ,do our share deny.
On female education ,what your efforts are,whateve' happen'd to the reservation bill,
Plum jobs,key posts and parliamentary seats, you don’t really trust us, to fill?
A liberal ,democratic state,no taleban is this,
Its my prerogative who I hug,n who I kiss,
Not sisters,moms,wives , daughters only,even friends , girlfriends can females be,
What a woman wants ,its her decision,let her be free…
Her inalienable rights are not what men upon them bestow,
They are something which a society, to its every member does owe.
Women never shy away from fighting ,or dying,
But let worthy be the opponent ,and higher the cause,
The issue is not of women reaching "PUBerty",
It is about you vandals having your "MENoPAUSE"….....
**Puberty refers to the process of physical changes by which a child's body becomes an adult body capable of reproduction.
Menopause is the permanent cessation of menstruation which occurs a considerable length of time before the end of the lifespan.Obviously,it is related to female reproductive cycle.
I have used "puberty" twice...in the second para.,it refers to the much needed growth and maturity among the right- wing activists,who ,i feel ,need to act like mature adults,now.And i use "PUBerty" in the last para to allude to the recent needless debate on whether women can or should frequent PUBS and BARS.No offence intended,i just play with the word,using my poetic licence."women reaching PUBerty " means women going out to pubs .
Similarly for MENOPAUSE. Agreed that technically it should refer only to females,yet again i want MEN to PAUSE ,n stop bossing around.Hence need to MENoPAUSE....and the beauty lies in the fa ct that while i m also appealing them to attain puberty on one hand,i also want em to have menopause....u see,so they dont get opportunity to reproduce and multiply....we dont want no more of them....
lastly,sorry,if i sound sexist or anything.I am just a poet ,who thinks he has pro-feminist inclinations.
with gud intentions......
SETTING: bold ,fearless and agitated women taking on the right-wing activists (terrorists) of sriram sene,who recently attacked a mangalore pub ,and are threatening to marry off the dating couples on Valentine's day.These custodians of indian culture want dress codes for women and want them to behave as per the norms of indian tradition.They resort to vandalism and hooliganism ,in order to gain cheap publicity and want to make careers out of all this business.Women ask hem abt the real feminine issues,and their and the country's track record on these.As M K Gandhi used to say,one can tell the health of the society by checking the pulses of its women.
.......O misguided,outdated zealots, out-of-work publicity hunters,
The self-appointed cultural policemen, conscience-keepers of MOTHER India !
Sixty years of political independence, a five thousand years old civilization ,
Pity ! You can still make political careers,invoking fear and paranoia.
Society does not need WATCHDOGS in these SLUMDOG times(2009),
That all enjoy their human rights, the freedom bell chimes,
Is the cry of the hour,and should be the order of the day,
Such vermins and parasites as you,are kept at bay.
Grow up ,gray,mature,reach your puberty now,
Nation still tolerates this vandalism, fundamentalism,i don’t get it,why or how?
You object to boys and girls,in malls, walking hand in hand, (ashok gehlot)
The WESTERN attires of jeans and skirts,your moral sense offends,
You cant stand lovers celebrating the valentine’s day,
Blame western outfits for rapes and eve- teasing,sayin' that’s how we pay.
U don’t want us to smoke and drink,or go out to pubs
Don’t want us to work or travel at night, even in busy metro hubs. (Sheila dikhit)
Misplaced are your priorities,on the wrong trees you bark,
Since ages have such people ,kept women in dark.
Girls are still killed in wombs ,the skewed sex- ratio shows,
Or to reduce the burden,forced into early nuptial vows.
Dowry- seeking and domestic violence, over the years ,have only grown,
Bound in chains ,hidden in purdah,Us , you think,some property you own?
What ' surnames' do we keep,raises such hue and cry, (sanjay and priya Dutt)
Biased property rights ,do our share deny.
On female education ,what your efforts are,whateve' happen'd to the reservation bill,
Plum jobs,key posts and parliamentary seats, you don’t really trust us, to fill?
A liberal ,democratic state,no taleban is this,
Its my prerogative who I hug,n who I kiss,
Not sisters,moms,wives , daughters only,even friends , girlfriends can females be,
What a woman wants ,its her decision,let her be free…
Her inalienable rights are not what men upon them bestow,
They are something which a society, to its every member does owe.
Women never shy away from fighting ,or dying,
But let worthy be the opponent ,and higher the cause,
The issue is not of women reaching "PUBerty",
It is about you vandals having your "MENoPAUSE"….....
**Puberty refers to the process of physical changes by which a child's body becomes an adult body capable of reproduction.
Menopause is the permanent cessation of menstruation which occurs a considerable length of time before the end of the lifespan.Obviously,it is related to female reproductive cycle.
I have used "puberty" twice...in the second para.,it refers to the much needed growth and maturity among the right- wing activists,who ,i feel ,need to act like mature adults,now.And i use "PUBerty" in the last para to allude to the recent needless debate on whether women can or should frequent PUBS and BARS.No offence intended,i just play with the word,using my poetic licence."women reaching PUBerty " means women going out to pubs .
Similarly for MENOPAUSE. Agreed that technically it should refer only to females,yet again i want MEN to PAUSE ,n stop bossing around.Hence need to MENoPAUSE....and the beauty lies in the fa ct that while i m also appealing them to attain puberty on one hand,i also want em to have menopause....u see,so they dont get opportunity to reproduce and multiply....we dont want no more of them....
lastly,sorry,if i sound sexist or anything.I am just a poet ,who thinks he has pro-feminist inclinations.
with gud intentions......
Thursday, January 1, 2009
heartships
The hardships you face in life ,on account of your heart ,are heartships.From coronary disorders to emotional ones ,and including side -effects like poetry,addiction to pain and career-wreakage,or even doping ....all can be classified under HEARTSHIPS.
a cold,dark,lonely december morning
reefer madness upon me, who has lost someone close
muzaffarnagar.....
......."all i m left with is a heart that refuses to stop beating,n the heartships that i face".........
.....Am I burning,or bleeding on the inside?
Nourishing the soul,
but flogging my own hide,
I smoke away my pains,
My eyes back it up with rains,
I ,hereby,abdicate my claim on life,
Only if i must ,would i survive.
Ease ,comfort and happiness,the ideals of PIGSTY,
My lips smile,then why does my heart cry?
As i trip on you,and gaze into your eyes,
I see what i want to see,can anyone deny?(me)(this pleasure,this privilege)
A blue ships sails on your face,
All around ,this dark; dark haze
Clouds my vision,closes my eyes,
But that dumb yawn of yours,
Brings me back to life.
So much to live for,so much more to die,
The punies,and the minions,
are the ones who thrive.
My heartbeats, my heartships , my own to savour,
Collected from dew,my love's lost labour,
I m the sun,they r my sunlight,
Its the moments as these,that keep me alive.
Dark is getting darker,hazier haze,
has become my life ,a jumbled maze.
The blood would clot,the heart would heal,
There would be no more pain to feel
If i banish u frm my thoughts,
My floods wud turn into droughts,
BUT I know ,I won't ever turn the page,
This hurt,this pain,wud make me a sage.....
A hurt,lost person.....on a hi (tripping)....on a cold,lonely winter morning.....missing someone badly....bleeding due to injury.smoking ,burning hislife away.Norishing the soul by fumes,memories,poetry,but losing his health in the bargain.Tears .more of them.More tears.Lost the will to live.But looking for excuses to just hang in there.Addicted to pain,knows that now all is lost n the only way out is forgetting that person,but enjoys the bleeding and the injury,the pain.
a cold,dark,lonely december morning
reefer madness upon me, who has lost someone close
muzaffarnagar.....
......."all i m left with is a heart that refuses to stop beating,n the heartships that i face".........
.....Am I burning,or bleeding on the inside?
Nourishing the soul,
but flogging my own hide,
I smoke away my pains,
My eyes back it up with rains,
I ,hereby,abdicate my claim on life,
Only if i must ,would i survive.
Ease ,comfort and happiness,the ideals of PIGSTY,
My lips smile,then why does my heart cry?
As i trip on you,and gaze into your eyes,
I see what i want to see,can anyone deny?(me)(this pleasure,this privilege)
A blue ships sails on your face,
All around ,this dark; dark haze
Clouds my vision,closes my eyes,
But that dumb yawn of yours,
Brings me back to life.
So much to live for,so much more to die,
The punies,and the minions,
are the ones who thrive.
My heartbeats, my heartships , my own to savour,
Collected from dew,my love's lost labour,
I m the sun,they r my sunlight,
Its the moments as these,that keep me alive.
Dark is getting darker,hazier haze,
has become my life ,a jumbled maze.
The blood would clot,the heart would heal,
There would be no more pain to feel
If i banish u frm my thoughts,
My floods wud turn into droughts,
BUT I know ,I won't ever turn the page,
This hurt,this pain,wud make me a sage.....
A hurt,lost person.....on a hi (tripping)....on a cold,lonely winter morning.....missing someone badly....bleeding due to injury.smoking ,burning hislife away.Norishing the soul by fumes,memories,poetry,but losing his health in the bargain.Tears .more of them.More tears.Lost the will to live.But looking for excuses to just hang in there.Addicted to pain,knows that now all is lost n the only way out is forgetting that person,but enjoys the bleeding and the injury,the pain.
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