Choppy Seas

NARRATION

2011-10-16T12:31:00.002+05:30

yester night- I re-invented myself

as a poet,

created by the dalliance of words

with my muse in her schizophrenic sojourn

between surreal, real and imagined life

as she narrated her love

in the tunnels of cloistered alcoves

somewhat labyrinthine

and long nights of disastrous affairs

demons playing in the delight of deadlock

in her mind, distorted

nevertheless,

she let in poems, new words

set in rhyme

into my arms-

in the anatomy of jasmine nights

in a serpentine slide

in a glass of wine

I knew the silent haughtiness

her mind’s disguise

as her eyes welled with tears

she said my poems are lies-

lies in an empty notebook

in a boudoir of shadow stars

in the darkness of the autumn

in the careless subconscious

I heard the wind turning the pages

the whispers of Muses,

and shifting sand dunes…

EXISTENCE

2011-10-16T12:29:00.001+05:30

Your names once belonged in soul to me

The seasoned, spiced wanderings of nuances

In the abysmal depths, in unbridled chasms

In the mirrors, murmurs became vapors

Shading the identity, the face

Quiet places, the arbor of sensual thoughts

Sunshine and shades, the trails

Intense wants, sometimes narcissistic

Knowing this was you- and you me…

Yes insane with wants, desire aflame

Names? Why wonder, is this my existence?

Mala Fide Malady

2011-03-17T11:07:00.002+05:30

1965
Milady was our malady,

Madam Meddly Mala Dee

Once the threnody

Pretty faced

Misfortunes milled

Mala fide breezes

In many hearts

Mellowed memories

In my innocent stories

Was she my mistress, yes-

Fresher’s English class, no less!

Milady memorized, ready

With Pygmalion- My Fair Lady

She would talk Herrick

We would sometimes pick

The passages that most embarrassed

Malady- oh yes, she handled that

And turned cherry red

Stirred and coughed, perhaps inside she bled

Milady, malady, oh Mala Dee

She squirmed in our glee

We even asked if she had a neighbor

Lady Chatterley, she turned sour!

And she had an affair

A man with a family somewhere

Mala Dee’s malady- her cups of woe

Like monsoon rivers in spate overflow

As she entered the coffee house

She declared to none in particular, “bloody louse”

She was crying, we gathered around,

Somehow we no longer found

Malady, Mala Dee as the object of our perfidy

It was obvious she was ours, pretty

Our mistress in distress

She had our hearts sharing the mess…

Years went by, we graduated, strayed low and high

Yet our English Miss, that Malady Mala Dee, sigh

Unfazed memories she brought, mala fide

We craved her, we cried

2011

Mala Dee died a year ago, at her death,

Rose a threnody of a heart break

She stayed a spinster, for nearly fifty winters

Hardening to Herrick, Coleridge without fears

And of Mary Angelou Octavio Paz, Saul Bellow

She had taught well, lived life, speculations did flow

We remember you, roses to you, Miss Malady

We loved you like no one did, mala fide, Mala Dee!

Mala fide, Mala Dee, with melodies in our hearts

Roses for the Mistress who gave to us a literary start!

Snooze

2011-01-10T08:13:00.000+05:30

Snooze

I wish you were an adolescent,

In need of adulation and feelings

Of whatever morsels that of you I could get-

I would then be your sugar, lover and bread, even board…

If you perchance called me to be more,

I would have vaguely made an effort, to find wings of wax,

Touched your red, kissable lips, freckled breasts

Like rye, simply illicit alcohol!

But you chose to be complete by yourself,

A woman hidden behind the thatch door,

Waiting to settle something-

Waiting for what?

It was just a thought that I knew,

Tying up the irritant-

The frayed laces on my shoe,

Hoping those were the strands that tied cups…

That made you look adult, grown…

Would you believe all this-

I made up while on snooze,

Waiting forty-six years,

And never awakened enough,

To say I loved that adolescent I found in you?

I know the scars on your breasts,

The stripes- veins, turning blue!

Unnamed Yet For You

2011-01-04T20:11:00.000+05:30

…

It is never the time

To deny myself

The joys what was brought on a sword

That smote

Love

We got fucked up

Somberly, dreadfully by us

And by the demons

Why regret?

Why regress in the dreadful pits?

I know

I am bound by bounds, I am too old

Just that I forgot to add, for you…

No, why escape?

Barbs sometimes choose to be irritants,

And men are thorns

When they want you in the morns

They do speak out and leak

As they kiss

Orgasmic feelings come undeniably

I do have an inclination to ask

Or lurk around

Tell me, why do you cry? Or dream?

There are dreads, immature felicity

And alacrity, in thoughts that say

Our tomorrow in temporal frames

Is all you dread?

We are just there,

Love bares breasts

And exodus!

We have promises,

Betrothed, before me, in death

The moon waned,

The Muse wed to Hades

Lingering undressed

Instincts pledged

Solemnized on speeding throbs of a heart

Who would ever know

What the drunkard dreams of-

His yes blurred, slurring echoes

of darkness of love lost

reinforced melancholia

We know inadequately

What was played in the subconscious

Signals stuck amid

The sex act,

As we cursed and said,

Fuck!

A Light Year

2010-05-15T10:04:00.001+05:30

A Light Year!

I can always ask someone, let me call her Lilly

To take a break for my sake, willy-nilly

May be I can make her day, or may be

She would make mine, I would see

So she is worried

I am dying slowly

May be in a year

A year of fear

May be

A century

Of days, months and may be

Years

And she

Is there,

Forever!

With an eye full

With tears!

There is always light,
At the end of a long day called life-

To love

To be a little more for her

And fade away

Like water colors

In a morning dream

Pastels and easels

Brushes and palettes

In thoughts deep

As I take on the last sleep

The last breathe

And gasp in awe…

A dream

Walking in sunlit tunnels

In shades of white

Rather bright

Yet I see

It has been a long day

May be

A place I would perhaps

Someday see…

Wreathes?

Or more, was this game over?

Level one

Well played

Am I

Gone

Dead?

Never!

TOMORROW IT WILL BE ALISHA

2009-12-13T11:37:00.003+05:30

TOMORROW IT WILL BE ALISHA

I was smoking the peace pipe some days ago, when things began to happen on my writing table… a cockroach began to speak…

Psssssst! I have superstitions black cats and voodoo dolls on sale, in that little dark corner, in my stall, in the premonitions mall. I have drugs and more that can blow your mind, walking or should I put a gun to your head?

I have a babe who can make you strip- if you like dancing in the rain, and she'll make scream- she is touched in her head, and quite a lot insane. Come On!

Man, you want a lesson in psychology- I can see I drive you crazy!

And the cockroach began laughing and waved its antennas at me- and said hey, I am a female- I can change into everything with six legs, but not less!

She then changed, into a female flea, the size of a cockroach, and jumped/flew into my nose… it tickled, and then she punched me hard!

And popped out… ahem! She said it is a warm place to be, rather hairy, and cozy with watery mucosa but I would starve, there is hardly any bacteria in there…

And she began a dance!

I felt that the cockroach flea was making a fool of me, she was just giving a run for my money- I thought of an anti-cockroach spray…

And the female squirmed- Oooooh! She said, and flipped, into a spider, and I wondered- she lost count of her legs, a spider has eight of those… leg, leg, leg, leg, leg, leg, leg, leg, she had eight! Whee!

Interesting she changed again into a sexy tarantula, with lipstick and eight legged lingerie!

And she said- I spy! With her four eyes I bet! I looked into her eyes, all four of those, and she waved her left foreleg, walking with me- and I crawled the table top- and the mirror showed a pair of tarantulas, I lifted my left foreleg and touched my face- I felt alive!

Ah, I was upside down, living dangerously and inside out with a Tarantula bride, and we began a tug of war, in the light of the night the table lamp glow, we were war dancing to a twisty beat. I now began admiring the Lady’s torso, eight legs, devil red lips and coca cola skin and boy she was screaming a song and dancing! I wonder what next… and the tarantula grinned- I mean both of us, it was in our mind, love and lust, and we broke into a jive…

And the Tarantula dame said hell, let me teach you some psychology- Lesson One, Psyche, Id and Ego…

I was really enjoying the dance, I said no, but she did not hear me, Tarantulas are deaf, except me, and they talk to the mind directly, she said Psyche! She spoke to my Conscious, let us go!

And she entered my mind, it was dark, somewhere there was a voice singing eh, get her out, and the scream echoed- out, out, out! The Lessons began, she wrote on the wall with her web spit-

Psyche: The mind or self as a functional entity

Id: primitive instincts and energies underlying all psychic activity

I turned away, I looked sideways and still the Tarantula attack was on…

Ego: The self, especially as distinct from the world and other selves. In psychoanalysis, the division of the psyche that is conscious, most immediately controls thought and behavior, and is most in touch with external reality.

The lesson continued, I yawned and slept off. Alicia smelt nice!

And woke up, the Tarantula was gone. The stark light in the ceiling said my mind was gone too- I had been psyched out- and found myself in a cheap funky hotel I fancied down town- she had taken my heart and she took my money. The Tarantula spoke in my mind- she was eating my heart with bread and honey- and that when the drug wears out, I would die, and in the meanwhile- there was scotch spilling out of a small rock, and a sleeping pill- she yelled, never drinks water and made me ring up, bring French Champagne. I was going insane!

Life would not be sane, I felt cold, I looked at myself- I was wow- human again!

I picked up the phone, and dialed 100, and said Hi Tarantula Woman, come in! And she had a skirt and top on, the red lipstick and coca cola hair in braid, red lipsticks and wow, spidery hips, and a grin, we can begin, let the waiter come it with champagne, and dance in the rain!

As we smoked the peace pipe again- she changed into an Amazonian Anaconda now, and she looked into my eyes… I got it! She was Mad Alicia the Temptress- python with a flicking, lip-smacking forked tongue and a scaled polka dot tiger-all-over-skin-wear, and she let go a split tongued whistle that sounded like a hiss!

I was mesmerized! It felt nice! Peace!

Two puffs later there was a knock- a poisoned soul slithered in. And he or she settled himself or herself, whatever, on a stool that appeared suddenly whatever, and grinned. It was time for the pipe again.

I came to a little or ages later again.

Alicia was screaming! She had freaked out again. And I was walking the roof lizard like, or whichever place was made of antigravity waves! Alicia continued screaming as I began the walk. A kaleidoscope of colors light sprayed the room…

The roof was rough. The floor was sandy, and the flowers were red- poppy like. The room had given way to a vast field, and Alicia was walking towards me, her hip swiveling walk, and the sun glaring at me with a white fiery face…

Alicia talked to my mind again- she loved open spaces and always grew chatty in the sun! I picked the giant lotus from the pond, where I was standing! Alicia popped out of the water, a mermaid now! I held out the flower that had changed into a bluebell, and Alicia was a gargoyle ogress grinning at the edge of nowhere! And she had wine flowing out her mouth, and she thought into my mind, sip this for an ever after!

I took a sip, rather a puff of the hookah! Peace, and there was Alicia, with gossamer wings- a Bird of Paradise, with a small spider in her beak… she dropped it in my hand, and the spider changed into my black dream, a dream where I see nothing…

The ground shook- the Hell Bound Express was coming into the Eternity Railway Depot- and it slowed down and came to a stop! Alicia peeped out from the third door and yelled all aboard! I hopped in!

I took the seat next to her, and she spoke into my mind, I wondered if her voice was velvet or satin but it had waves, not words, folded, wrapped, wrinkled, inviting like a stream of piano notes plucked slowly- the notes, and the words running in or out, a standstill tableau, in gypsy style and put my head on her lap! She crooned a song silently!

We peeped at each other- from two holes, we were worms in love in a tunnel in an apple and our apple was shriveling, the world shaking, and there was the smoke, peace again! Peace to our souls! Alicia grinned…

The lamp on the table was raining dust light, monsoon insects were dancing in the rain and the hazy smoke appeared Alicia. She was the seeping image of salt on the wall, a cloud and a face and a tarantula walking back home, and a child by her side holding her hands, and she waved at me!

Peace, my love! She often comes to me in my dreams, with my peace smoke- tomorrow perhaps she would hide!

I had smoked Alicia- Alicia the hashish is good! The best indeed! Alisha, in the brave new world of tomorrow! Smoking hot Alisha with the blazing blue eyes...

Peace!

Just Gossip: Re-Mi Mixed

2009-12-09T20:53:00.003+05:30

“When can we start chatting?” asked the Wise One of his wiser mate, chewing grass with the utmost concentration. She was attractive and petite, and looked lovely with the saddle on her back! Oh! The clothes she got to carry…

The Wise One was intrigued, his Wiser Half was rather pensive, and was concentrating purely on the grass below her, and her grass was indeed greener that his own, which was a shade of faded greenish brown- the bigger pot bellied beings that sported big udders and mooed, had deposited xopious amounts of aquatic fluids there yesterday, and though it had a pungent smell, the Wise One was content and kept at his meal. He never wondered why the grass below his feet was green, brown, dry or absent- it was not among the Wise Folks to wonder!

The Angry Down Udder Thing

(from the Net)

“When can we begin the chatting” asked the Wise One again. The Wiser Half just moved away and chose another patch of greener grass! It seemed that she was being very Wise today and wanted to keep away from Loose Talk, a game she often loved to play.

The Two Legged Fool appeared suddenly, and tied a long rope around the Wiser Half’s neck, and tugged. The Wiser Half stared hard at the Two Legged Fool- she would not budge! So the Two Legged Fool stood like the fool that he was and said “chlkh chlkh chlkh”.

The Wiser Half knew that it was time to play along. She went along with the Two Legged Fool, swinging her hips and swaying her head, something that the Wise One admired- the Wiser One was indeed ripe for something he could not, in his wisdom, figure out yet… a wise un-move!

The Not So Wise One, a young yet-to-be-wise Wise Thing approached him and asked “Shall we chat?” and the Wise One reluctantly began the chatting earnestly. After all, how long can a Wise Thing avoid the Chat? He asked the Not So Wise One, would she begin or would he?

And they began their chat. First it was the Not So Wise One’s turn. She first went down on her knees, as it was customary of the younger Wise Things to do and behave! The cloud of dust she raised was intoxicating. The Wise One pondered… was it time? The Not So Wise One invited him through her wonderful musical series in various subtonic shades of repeated Re-Mi tones in the equal tempered scale.

Finding re-mi!

Time! The Wise One joined in the action. He too went on his knees and then on to his back, just as The Not So Wise One had done. Soon, there was a cloud burst- a cloud of dust worth the attention of young two legged fools who gathered around and made sounds by hitting their hoof-less upper forefeet against each other and yelling “mazaayayyayayayaya!”… a sound not tuned to any semi-tone of the equal tempered scale in particular.

Exclusive exotic expressive ecstasy ensued!

So the two Wise Things chatted merrily until they were tired. The sounds of Re-Mi repeated a thousand times had died down when the clapping had stopped. Content, the Wise One momentarily contemplated a procreative union with this young yet-to-be-wise Wise Thing, but stopped this almost wisest joyful thought just in time… later, he thought, would be more appropriate! Chatting was heavenly!

Wise One…………………, Not-So-Wise-One

(from the Net)

The sun was approaching the zenith.

The Two Legged Fool appeared. He was sweating and appeared to be tired. The Wise One knew that it was his turn to play- he looked at the Two Legged Fool expectantly. Yes, the rope was tied around his neck. Yes, he was saddled now after a merciless scrubbing by the Two Legged Fool and would be led away, contently. Yes! Yes! Yes, the Two Legged Fool began dressing him with a wonderful heavy load of wet soft clothes. He closed his eyes in sublime happiness!

Whack! The switch cane thumped his bum! It was time to move from the river bank! He had to lead now it seemed- for the Two Legged Fool did not know the way to the Place-Where-The-Long-Clothes-Lines-Hang!

The Wiser Half was singing!

Re-Mi!

Sublime- time to chat, so soon!

“Arghh!” yelled the Two Legged Fool- “thrgomyfrshliwrshdclthes!”

Notes

Chlkh- the sound that the Two Legged Fool, a washer-man, makes with his tongue to call the Wise Folk in affection.

Mazaayayyayayayaya- a joint yell of joy of the young of the two-legged-kind when they enjoy the joint chat of the wise-ones (means we are enjoying it)

Re-Mi is the musical vocal expression of the Wise Ones, St Francis's Steed, the Holy Equinus Africanus! With this, the only all encompassing expression, they have managed to sagely express everything life demands to be spoken about!

Chat- a brisk invigorating act involving rolling in a patch of dust with all four limbs held stiffly upright and also brisk rubbing against a kindred wise kind’s body while so rolling. Utterance of Re-Mi-So is mandatory.

Thrgomyfrshliwrshdclthes “there go my freshly washed clothes”

Yet-to-be-wise: “an innocent being” in the language of the wise things, what else?

Caution: The wise things have a hearing problem, yet undiagnosed! That prevents them from being Supreme Beings, the Giver of Grass and Wise Thingy Babies!

Mostly A Cock and (Missing) Bull Story!

2009-12-06T08:39:00.003+05:30

In all deference to the hens that sat on the low barbed fence,
The flying rooster fired his booster well past the chick pens
He found a fly that had made a weak try to evade the beak
Of the flying rooster with booster, rocketing past at his peak

The hens on the low barbed fence screamed to the flying cock
Mind you, the fly is dodging you, look around and take stock
The farmer in suspenders (and fat belly inside) rubbed his eyes
His fat rooster in flight on booster was now aiming for the skies

Ah! The awesome hens in chick pens clucked their weird cries
Some hens laid in flight, a matter of oversight, eggnog on cows
Too much! Yelled the plump wife, as an egg landed in her blouse
Mad with rage, she yelled hard- shoot the hens ye louse of a spouse!

The farmer at his wit end, whether to laugh at the third globe
Inside the blouse of his mad spouse, with her hand as a probe
A frenzied spouse, not aroused for nothing, was forthright
Shoot the mad rooster-with-the-booster getting out of sight

Now hidden behind a low cloud, the farmer tripped and shot
A hit below the udder into the pail- the cow was distraught
A moo was all she could do, the farmer in his suspender
Not amused, roared at the now annoying gender bender

Abuses towards his red hot spouse, as the hens said cock-a-drool
And the cow now in full umbrage let go of a gallon sized pool
This was when the clouds crackled- she now broke her shackles
And butted a butt- the farmer’s spouse let go of the egg

The egg now split and began the tour to her toe via the leg,
The squeaks that came were high enough and the mistress
Obviously in a leaky distress as the egg flow created a mess
And the rooster in his rollercoaster ride now almost ending

Grinned at his master spread-eagled but still standing
Impaled on the bovine horns, a two-legged landing
Just another day at the farm in Blanding, the rooster cocked
A crock-a-doodle-do- and the farmer then knew he was socked

By the mad cow, and his spouse in tandem where it mostly hurt
For he had failed to shoot the rooster on booster’s merry spurt
And the cock now cackled- he was now an astro-naught
For him the farmer in suspenders was just a bag of beans, a thought

Patently false! Over with her noon distress the plump farm mistress
Ordered the farmer in torn suspenders- go get the cock, nothing less
Would do tonight, I was put through an awfully bad plight, Ned
Roast cock curry, a cask of ale, that’s for our dinner before bed!

The farmer in suspender looked at the pacified fat spouse
Yelled hard, “My derriere is sore, now go and milk the cows
Before I set fire to the hen house, and kill the hens but that cock
Goes to ISRO*, it has put on a damn good show, and warm your wok
And make a pot of water not lukewarm but hot
That is for undoing the stench- get a bath, you maggot!”

“And I hate to tell you, your front side is a yellow shade of goo
What can it be, I wonder, fatso, is it your late morning do?”
Thus said the plump mistress now enraged “Mr. Ned Bull
The cow let you go, yes, and the trouser looks more than full
Go clean yourself, and yes, Mr. Rocket Whiz, get that rooster
(Else the pig pen tonight, or become the sauce of Wooster)"

In preference to hens, the cock that night was slaughtered
And Mr. Ned Bull in the sty stayed, that he had faltered!

The moral of this story, is that a rooster in the sky
Is reason enough for a dinner and a lodger in the sty!

Besides, this story is entirely an unadulterated lie
That someone prompted and I began this, I do know why
Readers do not miss the point, I have reasons
To catch the layers with boosters, but pigs sometimes fly!

*ISRO- Indian Space Research Organization

Just a game!

2009-11-29T21:51:00.002+05:30

Lover, yesterday it began
I ran- there was this cute little one
Drowning…
A pickled heart, dying,
I got curious why,
Was it time enough?

Well, there was something crazy
I had overlooked,
When I quit on one,
Leave everything
And restart
With a heart,
That has seen everything
I would know love
And cleaning up!

A woman, mine for long
That I hate her is alright
That I love you is also
Something true
A fright
Would money matter-
Or her,
Would she cry?

I saw a man who died
Only yesterday, he had left hospital
Cured,
But a weak heart
Today,
Sick of alcohol
Never mended
And of course
With him, romance died!

He had a lovely scrawny crying woman
Who asked why
The lover won over him
When she just tried
Sex
And had a child,
Ten years old

When they took him away,
His face in the sheet that brought him in
Declared DOA
As the ambulance took him home
Uncertified
No post mortems

But lover,
I tried
Always…
It was a game we loved to play!

Tell me
How many more
Would I love-
Beyond tonight
When you take my poems away?

The Muse came to me in a hospital as I waited for the surgeon outside Casualty/ER. This man had been brought in dead, of a heart attack! I wondered, stared at the wife, stoically braving the bleakness that had surrounded her. I asked the hospital superintendent, a friend, about him! Then he told me his story... a philanderer, drunkard, lover, father, husband... and I thought yet a man who had a world of his own, now lies covered in a shroud!

Where were his poems now?

The Tavern

2009-11-28T07:49:00.002+05:30

The call of the Tavern left me long back, in shame

It had lit in me love, a flame,

And then each day,

It played a trick, it called my name

It lingered, it claimed the Muse, my soul and all, my say

What I could I did, the dried quill resigned

The inkpot left bare long behind

In shadows behind the curtains, blind

The call of the Tavern, where the wine

Poured down parched throats unimpeded left

Verse choked, slurred voices lost in theft

Deep inside, raked by pain as I lay in the cold outside,

The laughter wore a muffled croak

The heart dead, the tears dried,

For the Muse, she hid somewhere, the alcohol

Was saddled deep inside,

And the tavern just an alter, a shrine

To a million words, to the poems left behind…

There are odes I hear to the tavern they call life

It pleads, it gives a joy ride and yet, strife

There is wine- there is sunshine,

An incense permeates the flow of Time

As the Tavern changes its shape and shade

The Woman of Words just stays aloof, I fade

As the sounds of clinking glass

Gurgling flows of mellowing croons

Sung in the moods of indigo blues

Divided in ambivalence, the Muse

Watches perhaps from far away,

As twinkles in starlight astray

The poems mutilated, mindless

I witness the bouquet the Muse had shed

The Tavern still has poets, racing words

Laughter, mistresses and admirers

Critics and critiques, words of fire

And yes, the Muse lurks in hot desire

The old poet banished, famished,

His wine, sobriquets, epithets

Brickbats alike in exile, vanquished,

The Muse looks on heartless

The wine flows yet, hours in the darkness

Cries the poet, poems now a mattress of tears

In a sky, stellar, cosmic, immortal yet unread!

In the Tavern of Eternity, forever a shop

Of dreams, an ethereal bartender of words

Weaves secret tapestries, pours the wine of romance

Who cares? For poets drunken with the golden rye

Fizzes and cocktails of rhyme,

Time stands still, only favors die!

27 Nov 2009

Oracle!

2009-11-15T23:27:00.000+05:30

Much before I met her,

I could infer,

I was green and small

Just an inch and half tall

It would not be long since

One day I would be a Prince

And someone, I knew,

Would be in love with me too!

My world was so tiny and dark

A corner of the neighborhood park

I peeped at the passersby

A yellow butterfly

Would nag me

Tease me

And ask- touch me

Why won’t you try!

But I knew

It wasn’t you,

I just let it be-

As the summer mellowed in melancholy!

The heart ached-

Not knowing why!

As I saw the starlit night

And the flitting firefly!

It was soon cold, a time

To sleep alone

Below a big stone!

Chirp, chirp, wakey!

A sparrow befriends me

To croak along

With her song!

In my little pool

By the white toad-stool

Stood my Princess

In a green wedding dress,

An inch and half tall

Waiting for the spring ball

A spectacle-

Predicted by the Oracle!

What do you think- do miracles happen every day?

Contemplation

2009-11-11T16:28:00.002+05:30

How many roads must one chicken cross?

How many chickens must bear their life’s loss?

I wonder why chicken try

To cross the road only to die

I wonder why that chicken stood

In a confused and befuddled mood

As I drove over him/her and thought of food

Don’t cry for the de-feathered dude

That did not die, but he/she thought it rude

To be left in the middle of the road in the nude…

How many roads must one chicken cross?

How many chickens must bear their life’s loss?

The chicken was a disciple of Rajneesh the Osho

Whenever it could see a road it would say No!

No, for I cannot cross, I would transcend

My earthly habits I must resign and mend!

And the Godfather was negotiating a truce

He made her an offer she couldn't refuse

And the chicken crossed the highway at noon

They picked her up with a fork and spoon

But still I would not get my answer, dude, why

A chicken must cross the road, if only to die

How many roads must one chicken cross?

How many chicken must bear their life’s loss?

The answer is not blowing in the wind,

It seems chicken are born with a genetic kink

The spirit of adventure in roosters and hen

Would lead them across the road now and then

The chicken was female and obviously interpreted

The pole on which the cross sign was erected

As a phallic symbol of which she was envious

But to herself, the point was never obvious

That when one is afraid to do something

One may be called chicken shit and sing

If they don’t do nothing to cross the road

Chickened out, someone will goad!

How many roads must one chicken cross?

How many chickens must bear their life’s loss?

It is the Mother of all Chickens that cries

Whenever a road-crossing chicken dies

In pursuit of happiness on the other side

And scaring the trucker, on the road bona fide

I envision a world where all chickens will be free

Or not too cross when a truck they see

Without having their motives scrutinized

By humans on daily duties and or whims and wiles

That place them on speeding automobiles

That Leda sometimes would ask of Zeus

Don’t dress as a chicken it is of no use

Mortals have the power to kill chickens

And you, if you masquerade in your nonsense

How many roads must one chicken cross?

How many chicken must bear their life’s loss?

The other side is just as dull as this one

Don't talk to me about chickens. Not done!

If it was a historical inevitability chicken

That know not to cross the road when

Will not return, even if driven by economic necessity

They would certainly be martyred. A pity

The chicken that cross the road must know

For that one crossing, there is an equal and opposite

Crossing of merciless sixteen wheeler fleet

That may not stop. National Security was at stake

Who gives a fuck about a fucking chicken, for God’s sake

It is not a necessity at all, there already was a chicken

On the other side of the road, born of a different hen

How many roads must one chicken cross?

How many chickens must bear their life’s loss?

I wonder and muse, why a chicken has to cross

Why can’t it fly, why does it not try a horse

The Newtonian dictum Chickens at rest tend to stay at rest

Chickens that do cross the road, are never cooked at best

It was a government conspiracy that built the highway

Such that hapless chicken would die straightaway

But why would chicken cross the concrete lane

Is a puzzle to drive all awfully insane,

And why we are at it, Bob Dylan sings

Of chicken dying on highways sans wings

How many roads must one chicken cross?

How many chickens must bear their life’s loss?

Sir, for as long as I have, had you known the chicken,

You would not so readily enquire, but abstain

And feel rather the need to resist such a public display

Of your own lamentable and incorrigible ignorance everyday

The chicken that crossed the road is not the eternal chicken

Many a thinker and poet has gnashed and wrecked his pen

Star trekking may be, to boldly go where no chicken has gone before

Those who cluck do not know. Those who know do not cluck sure…

I did not have improper sexual relations with the chicken

I was asleep, when she crossed the road at ten

How many roads must one chicken cross?

How many chickens must bear their life’s loss?

The Dreamer from Beyond

2009-11-10T10:41:00.006+05:30

I woke slowly. Two things were very clear- I was barely alive, wrapped in a hospital blanket. I could see the men in strange uniforms walking about in the corridors. The language they spoke was something I thought I knew, yet I could not make out. The air smelt of ether and of people crying, whimpering in low voices. Sleep was welcome, but my arms seemed locked somehow…

Once in a while a sterile figure in white walked in and looked at me and said something- I could see that she never understood me at all! She held my wrist high, and I saw the tube… and she made a brief note after sometime and faded out of my sight. I dreamt of a manhunt!

The prey was faceless- he had a mission, and he had erred while returning- he was wounded, crawling and thirsty for two days, caked with blood, wounds festering and dirty. The sporadic rain saved him from the tell tale smells of the hounds- but they were never far away! A hell as hell can be! Hills with very sharp sunrises and sunsets… these were the Pir Panjal Ranges! The hills had vegetation that could hide or betray at will, it depended which way the sun was shining. At night, the animals let off tell-tale noises of the alien. Barely sixty meters from the LOC, they saw him, and fired upon him- his own people! Return was difficult- these were his own countrymen, but they did not know he was there! Each time he tried to enter the forward defended lines, they let off a salvo, lit flares and brought down mortar shells too close for his comfort. Then one stray shell exploded near him with a blinding flash! And when he came to, he knew he had to get help! He turned back- for one last time, and then saw the Ranger Patrol… they had a dog!

There was no border, and there was no way he could go on indefinitely in his present state- he barely managed to be conscious- until he did go under, almost fatally!

The Rangers were in doubt. This man, wounded was coming towards them when they saw him. They lost him… and found him two hundred feet below- he had rolled down and bruised, incoherent and was calling out to someone- sounded like Fareeda! No not an Indian spy at least… but who knows!

Asleep, adrift, unmoored miles below the surface called consciousness, lay the poet in the dreamer’s mind… which way was up?

Coming Back Soon!
The musk

Had me pinned

It just called me in

I slept

Cradled

As you looked on

For eons!

To languor done

Dreamless

By the songs

Of sobs and wails

Sedated

As your eyes

Keep guard

I dream

Of caresses

Autumn leaves

Words

Echoes afloat,

A row boat and the oars

Drawing lines on my chest...

Millennia pass

The layers of crepe

Stripped offI hear

The muezzin

The clergy

I smell ether

Cleansing the scars

Of gunshots

I feel

The medicos

Fussing

And the merciful eyes

Wet

HopingI am not dead!

The beeps fade-

Another day

I know

I shall awake

Resurrected

From the stake!

The man on the bed was restless. Dr MKZ had been cautioned to keep this man alive for interrogations… there was an unaccounted for Indian intrusion some one month back- the same time when this man was brought in. The Ranger Captain had brought him in and dumped him, but the “other ones” were too curious about this handsome one, a twenty-six year old, obviously a soldier, lying semi-paralyzed in the bed- though the vital signs were good, and there was no other sign of permanent damage- severe concussion, perhaps ill treatment at the hands of his captors may have caused this condition. The two bullets that were recovered were evidence, kept in a locker somewhere. His shattered fibula was now well set. The loss of blood suffered was tremendous- they had put in three units of blood, and he wondered how at all he survived. He was certainly strong. The man’s breathing was disturbed, the monitors showed distress… Dr MKZ gathered his thoughts- he decide against enhancement of analgesic. Move him towards the southern window- let him soak in that glorious sunshine, and may be recovery would be better!

I saw myself lying on this hospital bed on and off… I knew I had been operated after I was caught- but why was I caught? I remember the pain- dragging myself, breathing hard, that abysmal pain in my leg… and I was put on a ventilator. Did I have chest injuries? But no, my chest felt whole… where exactly was my wound then? Why had they tied me up?

Signs

Gunshot Echoes!

My coma leads me

Through phases of dark and light

Amnesia

And drugged delight-

Battling for life

Docked like a submarine

To the oxygen machine

A stark roof

Limits me

When I am high!
The pips

Echo and measure

My heart,

Sometimes

When I die,

They call me back

From my friend-

Gabriel

He walks along in my dream,

And smiles!
The sounds of clinking bangles

Terrified squeaks

Of a woman at the bed side

Sobbing

Premonition speaks

Through her tears

I wonder why...

It is hard to leave

Love and hope carved

With the surgeon’s knife!

Wither?

Adrift in the twilight zone-

I wait-

For the road sign, alone!

Memories flooded in, still without a hint of who was I, where I am now, and why I was here. I feel a little hostility towards me when I see the people visiting they want to ask, and it is strange I cannot speak in the language they ask me- I have my own. They say some word for me- Baluchistan, yet I am not sure I know what it means!

III

The handsome patient, as they called him was now coming back from his long comatose sleep sessions. He smiled once in a while, moaned sometimes, and never spoke. There was something wrong with his EKG- it seemed he had amnesia too, he could not reply to any questions about himself so far. Nervous deficit was there in his back, yet there were involuntary movements in his lower limbs- was it a temporary thing. Dr MKZ thought, rather hoped that this man would recover enough to walk. One thing was sure, he was a fighter. And Dr MKZ knew he had no tattoos on his body, nothing that could tell who this patient was!

The handsome one was sleeping too much, one could see the smile on his face…

When!

When-

I awake and stare at the blue light above

I wonder from whence came the dust on my robe-

And why the birds that sang flew, the white feathers

Drew a boat afloat with my blood-

As I lay on a leaf bed,

Faces stared, was I dead?

When- I see you sit and face the West

And pray, I know I almost died to get your love,

And you are here today, don’t say

I just know, what all there is to know worth

My Gods live in the North!

When- I surface, every day,

The inquisitor waits- would I confess?

When- the chestnut hair touches the ground

As you rest on the chair, I know

How far it is from the barbed wire fence!

The Diaries
I prayed silently- the only prayer I knew! Mother of God and Virgin, hail, Mary full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, for thou hast given birth to the Savior of our souls.

I was walking at last- the limp would go soon too… where is my memory?

The handsome one was walking- they had to let him go. But he did know where to go after the hospital phase ended. The police had come here too, and they seemed to have no interest in him anymore! The field security people from the Cantonment too had visited him, and taken his photographs and left. In fact it was they who had kept a few guards outside till yesterday- the 93rd day of the patient’s stay here! Dr MKZ hoped he could talk.

The Diary: 11 November 2003

When I heard the news, I was shocked… I am going to be discharged in about two weeks, perhaps into prison- where they keep spies, and other dirt! I do not know what I am hiding… they think I am from Baluchistan or from Sind! For God's sake, I crossed over for her, let’s call her FJH, and I find myself in a lot of shit!

FJH notes everything I say in my mind! The nurses hate her- I think for they must be aware that trans-border love is bad! She is also a bit tired! She cries a lot! It’s all in my mind, and my diary is unreal too… Fareeda, how far can you be, and how near too- I am hallucinating still I guess!

This place is difficult!

When I wrote this post in my diary, the world as I know today was not created! I am alive, and will tell you my story, somehow! FJH won't mind!

Lucidity

Lucidity-

comes in puffs of hashish,

when I lie alone,

praying for the satanic streams to pass,

and for Divine bliss!

I moan-

awash with thread-less wisps of thoughts,

dreaming of what not, weary.

Is this my forever fate?

Diary Entry: 04 Feb 2004

Somewhere deep within,

I know, this too will pass somehow,

The miracles and the broken shackles,

Something lies ahead in store!

There are layers and more-

Like my bedsores,

But the voices have gone,

I lie in a stone room with a cobbled floor.

The old crone comes every day-

She smiles and stokes the fireI hate her,

I ask where is Fareeda,

And where is this place…

She says Zannat,

And your houri is long dead!

When you sponge me Crone-Maid,

I hurt, and your smile, I hate!

I am not Zia- nor Noor Mohammad-

I am not Ansar, a shame

Who knows... my name?

Tomorrow, I want hashish,

And the viper on my lips,

And when I sleep,

Bless me God,

With the kiss of death!

Diary 7 Feb 2004

I dream from time to time- I have subconscious awakenings, and I am scared too.

Who am I? I wonder! Why do I have the thoughts that I feel are a sacrament? This century knows terror- it comes ready- a packaged environment friendly RDX with the grinning kamikaze… a young bomber, cuddling his guardian- the M36 grenade!

Orgies begin when the cowards call their slaves lashed in dread, parade and the AQ yells fuck you all!

I remember my village- walk along the village streets I see- Caucasoid and Mongolian mixed bred kids with golden hair, green eyes… the brats, they talk like locals, born of lies in captives, and I wonder how came babies suckle the oozing milk in local breasts!

The canons of decreed faith preached by radicals harvest death! Yes? This is politically incorrect, a slip, now face the whip!

Badtameez, kafer! As the rifle butts hit, I lie on the ground!

The flies feeding on caked blood, orchestrate my thoughts now! “Kill and propagate the Faith!” says God, Benevolent, Merciful, We bring the century of peace, wrapped in the Sacrament, Covenant of the Satan… Oh, how dare I?

So yelp, hear us, you have committed sacrilege!

Fareeda is here- just beyond the invisible line of control, so much a part of our lives- we were born with it dividing the village in the middle, and the soldiers watching over us like vultures! Do I dare?

Beyond The Fence

Eyes stare through the veil,

New one, where from do I hail?

Query the quarry-

The rabbit on the run,

Trudging the strange soil

The black band,

Toting the machine gun

Nothing new

But they know it is futile

When I trudge the last mile,

A bit weary,

But the unhurried steps

Disarm the inquest!

The gunfire begins,

The man knows trouble for sure

Lie low

Don't tempt fate

More wounds to endure…

He awaits the sunset,

Trailing the Rangers

And their counterforce

For the gap or the gate,

Past midnight,

The last of the moonlight gone

A fox slithers below

And calls its mate,

The rabbit wades

Home…
Something pings against my shin bone-

I am engulfed in a sea of fire…

Soldiers…

Walking me with hands tied,

This side knowsI crossed, not why,

I await the trial that may free me

From the shackles

Or like the terror merchants

Just throw me across,

To die!

Thus began my beginning… or my end! Incomplete yet!
From Poems in Captivity: A Book of Plastic Verse

IT IS NOT SO…

2009-11-10T10:39:00.000+05:30

Some Sunday
When I'm young again
I'll write you to find out how you have been-
Your frenzied lips and dutiful skin
Your pleated skirts- moods to tease the volcano
When we are young again
I'll kiss your cheek and say that I have learnt something…
Some Sunday
It would be the paradise humming within
Like bits of cloud, the raindrops-
On blatant portals of amorous thoughts
Finally coming in thick squints
The suicidal moon- you test a darker complexion
And breasts heavy with gravity
Out of nowhere a sudden scar
Faint gallops of rhetorical moist lips
Rocking on lounge chairs
Watching flesh burning hot
You’re too predictable
Turning in through
Dishonest doors, indifferent windows
And shadows in the pillows
Sunday morning stripping the Barbie
Watching beautiful hard lines of flesh
Voids, misplaced dominoes
Strangers at every corner with lipstick on
And the radiance of careless words
Buying, eyeing obvious vanities
Malfunctions in touch- grenades
You tried to tell me how beautiful it was
To be like live torn stockings cheating up cold legs
Obvious vagabonds- fingers sans eyes cruising
Some Sunday when I'm young again
I'll write you to find out how you have been-
It is not so, the future
Is unseen, of Sundays within…

Something for You

2009-10-01T19:24:00.001+05:30

1
Something glimmered,
In amber glass
Butterflies- in sunbeams
Turned into iridescent beings-
In the evening sky
In opal glimmer of velvet wings
Azure and silver mariposa
Once of the September air,
Mercurial wings- now fixed forever,
Your moods, visions of unexplored valleys
Frozen in the vase,
The desires of your enamored soul-
Bare hearts, unlatched in crystal panes
In passion
Of vague tenderness and pale moonlit nights
I brood, watching your silence,
Not a word-
Something glimmers,
A dancing pair,
Tinkling clockwork hearts…

18 Sep 2009

2

Where from does the firefly
Seek love from wells gone dry?
Of tears shed
Wandering arms spread for you
Wizened old eyes
Wither more in the fall,
Winter drags more than ever
Passions of dread
When ashes from the hearth spread
Your eyes leave so much unsaid,
Just the shivers of an evening lost
In passion that came and fled
In torrents, unspent, within the throbs
Wither went all that heat
And the flickers of flames that once were
The brilliance we sought?
Where from does the fiery fairy
Beseech my love- I am long removed
From your time and space
Afloat in limbo, a long undead
Whisper reminds there was me, in your heart
That insane wants of Now, coiled like centipedes
Strummed spasms…
Hear mine
Words of a long gone past,
In a delicious blur
My parallel universe!

19 Sep 2009

3

IT IS NOT SO…

Some Sunday
When I'm young again
I'll write you to find out how you have been-
Your frenzied lips and dutiful skin
Your pleated skirts- moods to tease the volcano
When we are young again
I'll kiss your cheek and say that I have learnt something…
Some Sunday
It would be the paradise humming within
Like bits of cloud, the raindrops-
On blatant portals of amorous thoughts
Finally coming in thick squints
The suicidal moon- you test a darker complexion
And breasts heavy with gravity
Out of nowhere a sudden scar
Faint gallops of rhetorical moist lips
Rocking on lounge chairs
Watching flesh burning hot
You’re too predictable
Turning in through
Dishonest doors, indifferent windows
And shadows in the pillows
Sunday morning stripping the Barbie
Watching beautiful hard lines of flesh
Voids, misplaced dominoes
Strangers at every corner with lipstick on
And the radiance of careless words
Buying, eyeing obvious vanities
Malfunctions in touch- grenades
You tried to tell me how beautiful it was
To be like live torn stockings cheating up cold legs
Obvious vagabonds- fingers sans eyes cruising
Some Sunday when I'm young again
I'll write you to find out how you have been-
It is not so, the future
Is unseen, of Sundays within…

21 Sep 2009

4

Palm Scroll

Come, read the palm scroll,
Words, inked tears
Steep into its folds,
Be my muse, wild woman-
Painted desires
Vibrant streaks of blood
On a python totem-
The mark of the Red Goddess of love!

On your forehead, vermilion?
Tell me,
With what name shall I welcome
The bride of poverty-
Into this nest
Did love ever have a religion?
Transcend death, does love at all?
Grass always grows over the grave,
The copper body that lived so long,
Now history
Wail woman,
Your tears in red ink,
On the palm scroll

26 Sep 2009

Scream!!!

2009-08-04T21:42:00.000+05:30

Scream!
My Jeannie Girl is mad at Soccer!

This Soccer, a male cur
Was coined as late as this summer!
I may lose friends, but not ever alienate her
I dream of genealogy
And Soccer’s family history, a bit foggy
The writings philosophy teaching
In silence and sanctuary breaching
Located in Soccer’s canine chewers
Devised by our God of Good Manners
With loads of art and materials
And Soccer’s frolic testimonials
And my interests, of one download in all
@59.09.63.31, an imperfect portal!

(My lover is cheating, but it is okay
I too am peeping down Pluto every day
And the giraffe woman's zip necks-
I hate her freckled breasts! What the heck!)

She has psychic advice
By relationship marketing for a small price
She guarantees success in excess
A way out of the steadily incremental mess
With the easy home services of our living
I want my colleague’s net privacy after reading
Of sexy and incompetent adults
Lost in soccer locker rooms and Soccer’s defaults
My self storage facilities feature call, and cables
For automatic loops through upturned tables!

Scream, Soccer is eating my girl up!
Bad pup!
He was either half empty or half full
When he stood there, Soccer is a un-Holy Bull!

Soccer,
SOCCER!!!
You must not
No, not all,
Not a drop should fall
Soccer, bad Soccer!!!
Scream!

Talisman

2009-01-08T19:30:00.000+05:30

In my poems distance and Time
Have a meaning-
They made me further removed
Pushed me into the sunless days
Into the crossroads,
Into the markets where I last sensed
A commodity- desire
Basted, waiting for the final
Kiss, in skillets turning slowly
On the dying amber red lips
Of an oven, strangely shaped
Reminiscent of how and when
Things were between us
And now the succulent smells
Waft with the taste of Time
On writhing parted orifices
Where flesh flexed and shrank
In wave motion and charred
Amid frenetic calls of delight
Now whence do I
Find the end of distances, microscopic
Or in macro spans, where
I see the rose-like maiden breasts
Inviting, in gossamer covers
And eyes, that call out, a talisman
Pierced navel, and more
Distant times, sunless eventide
A rippling brook counting time
Or a naked boy
With a talisman around his waist
Running from here to there
Nowhere!

REM with You

2009-01-06T07:38:00.001+05:30

Remembering

Everything you gave
So easily, not least the pain
Nor the laughter,
Nothing went in vain
The dream grows every day
The seeds in my mind
Grew into trees, a rainforest
Squeezed somewhere
Lie yesterdays in a dream
That never ended
Sometimes curled up
In a child like sleep, I imagine
The mysteries of waking hours
Of wandering in the labyrinth
In the haze so deep…

THE TRUTH IS

2009-01-05T00:05:00.000+05:30

The truth is that
There are many kinds of truth
Between you and me buried, choked
Waiting to erupt into our world
And then cry for the dawns
That died in hunger in the closed gaps
Skin to skin, or within a closed eye
Like a tear drop, or in a black cavalcade
That closed in so much, there was just musk
And tenderness and nothing else
There are truths beyond this
Awakened sometimes like sunbeams
Playing and the golden dust floating
In between on lips paused in Eros
Waiting, in frozen moments, just stare
Hard, the truth plays and teases
We know, at midnight, there is hunger
For the beginning of one more tomorrow
In your womb and the growing child
Of yesterdays, dawn to dusk, making love
And dying spent the truth of knowing
That there would be just us, no more, no less
In bare creases of the sheets
Dreaming in awakened contractions
Awareness, and the dawn, cautioned
Of homes that await us, if we chose
To return after the tryst, the truth
That always needs to be undone
It is for me, you, us and an island
Of many kinds of truths and hues
Of love- choked, buried deep
In the layers, the truth is I am split
Between this home and you
Likewise, a million miles
And a million years away, in our universe!

Tremors

2008-08-13T01:17:00.002+05:30

Do you
Hear the tremors-
And shame!
Tell me,

Do we play games?
Go I said, go poetess, enjoy
Those voyages

As only you can wish
And you asked-

Where goes the kiss
Into the trousseau
Or did I know,
It was
Missing with the Snake of Eden
That called Eve from slumber,
You do remember?
When I called the leaves-
Of Autumn- too late
To cover naked love
The prelude to disaster
And songs of the tides
That wish – you, me and us
Just share
With the hand
Held on your heart
Sooner than Nemesis...

Before we stop
The waves of Time
Bring
Beyond everything
The tremors of Chaos
The wild roses of Tindalos
And undreamt dreams
Like a stiletto heel
On the snows!

Intimacy

2008-08-13T00:19:00.000+05:30

You know…
.
.
.
You are now with me,
And want me to write of intimacy?
Intimacy…
Well how did we begin?
Almost unknown to each other
May be those persistent questions you asked
And the odd things
In gardens and pavements...
Yes, it may have begun in a party
Or, was it then
Someone helped with the cooking
Or washed your dishes
It may have begun in those office meetings –
Violent opposition and agreements
Or in the elevator, later-
When we made up with politeness
Simply through nervous staring
It begun in mood swings
And
Just anywhere
With any trigger
From anyone
Even when the mahout,
Went to the bushes
On our trip to Bandhavgarh
Intimacy came to us…
With an earthshaking feeling
With anything
And everything
It was just the in thing!
You know!
.
.
.

2008-07-30T19:53:00.001+05:30

So you wanna fly
From our soggy wet Mumbai
Our roads have one or more holes
That can swallow whole
Men and cars
Somewhere
You may find one that can
Even eat a star

So just don’t try
To flee Mumbai

The airport- Sahar,
Is far,
And the planes are wet
The pilots in a sweat-
The runway is flooded
The stewardess grounded
With the flu
That came in from Malad
Sad but true
Believe me with the salad-
The other cabin crew
Is long over due
Yesterday their dhobi
Vanished with the clothes too-
And they are ready,
Only in their shoe!

The APU won’t start
The battery
Needs flattery
And the engines aspire
Yelling ether, gimme ether!

Don’t think of it
There is no escape route
Even a parachute
To leave Mumbai
Just don’t even try!

2008-07-12T13:22:00.001+05:30

COMMERCIAL!

Oh Tanaka
I wish
Love metamorphoses into Cupid2008
We had enough of mush,
At this rate...
We need a commercial break
Talking of how to make the kiss
Another rhapsody-
Of biometric flow enhancers
And mechanicals
Drooling Surly Desirelings
On desktops
And back after the break,
We would heave a sigh,
And get the lovers high!

Tanaka
Cupid2008 is online
Somewhere
The lovers need a sponsor to get on
So we need glamour models-
Featuring Tyra Banks
Or Bipasa Darling
In the rain
Ah yes here is the commercial again
For a fair love letter writer
And a tinsel graffiti rainmaker
And lavender
So the light is dimmed
The circuit breaker these days sparks!

Tanaka
Your mark II is here
Do you dare?
Break again
This time it shows middle aged men
Working the gym hard
As they in moments get thin
And grow back black hair
The ladies preen
And sip their gin
Hey- the break…
Love changed to Extassy2K8
Heart beat and seat belt
Adrenalin shots
Designed to tease the beloved
And a primer to excite
Basic instincts
Run
The show is again on
Sip thoughts and the curves of love...

Tanaka
Your reverie is too mild
This is still to brew and boil
Make it wild
The break again
Brand eXotickLoveMaKing
XLM Model Three
He in shorts and she in a bikini
Made by Mme Mari Jean Snorts
And what joys
Priced very low
And it says dreams for the masses
On a beach
Within the pauper's reach!

Tanaka
Shed weight
Hot shot
Shed thought
Do what love needs
Take a break
From day dreams
She waits
For the Vista compatible
"Aftermath™"!

Rain...

2008-06-11T18:50:00.000+05:30

Rain!!

That cold fire
Hits hard
The ice in front
Races the lava
Avalanche like
Traces of cold fire
Trying
Melting
Your heart
Let the cold fire spread
Asking for little excerpts
Of desire
That cold fire
Burns everywhere
You want to run-
Was it raining there?
I remembered you
Perhaps you too
For it is still raining-
The air has something to tell
The rivulets
On the pane
All wet outside
And inside
It was cold fire
It was raining in the morning
And I wanted to feel you
The cold fire
Crackled,
Just try,
To yourself don’t lie,
Hard rain, but... it smoked and told
Stories in amber and red
So I called
And the thunder replied
So I called
And there it was
Inside
Just a heart
Melting
Whimpering in the cold fire
Called in desire
And it just cried
Kiss me on my lips
And touch me with your finger
On the tips
Of wherever

Love is

Cold fire

Inside!

Hey!!
Stop that rain…
Let it be just dry,
Snug like the winter
Yellow hearth
Breathing
Seething
Crackling hazelnuts
Popcorns
Afire!

Just Another Day

2008-05-31T10:05:00.000+05:30

I know, coming home
Every evening,
Till I am afraid
And beg, why
My home-
Is a four poster
Dinner
With a mongrel
Seeking favors before
I scratch him to sleep,
And in turn rewarded
With powder and nails
A touch before
The routine that tired souls dread...

I always wondered,
About that measured quality-
You seek in me-
That just begun to burn
A vapor cloud
On my clothes
Dripping erotic sweat
That came from thoughts
That rained
On a summer day
At 120 degrees Fahrenheit
And claimed
Bull’s eye
At six
Walking the streets
Hoping that the soot
Would go away!

Home is too far away
Kiss my sweat
Like you always did
Before the roses
Fade
In the vase
Overdosed
In aspirin
And elixir
From the remnants
Of despair!

Flight!

2008-04-12T17:13:00.001+05:30

Don’t call me tonight- the dream is hard, graphic and rather bright in the sense- it deals with everything that would raise hackles- so don’t, there is nothing I can do- call 911, you would get your breaks and a fancy flight…

Don’t call me at midnight- I sweat, rather shocked and uptight at the bizarre things that go on, there! You see there is someone I just met, and I am looking into her eyes, wondering… about what- nothing but the flights of fancy and blight!

Don’t at all think that we have had enough- yet!

A flight of cranes
Would stalk soon-
On long legs
A peck
A peek-
A give
A take
And the unhappy worm
Squirming
With the tuna
In the beak!

Imagine
The sober facts
An archer firing a blowgun
The zodiac man
Bear hugging
An assassin of snakes
Fondling the dean’s wife
Past her prime
And sublime
Malignant desires
On fancy’s flight

Don’t call me- this dream is what keeps me alive!

Don’t you see, tonight there is a tryst of morbid interest, what scares you is my delight! I look for the things that are- well why should I trust you tonight? It is a chance encounter, in a bed, in an oblong spread in a cubicle, snug, chest to breast- and deeper in cushioned sweat… and spite-

Flight!

A Chance Encounter!

2008-04-11T14:57:00.005+05:30

This happened long away- I was about 17, happy and about to make many decisions in life- including a career in writing poetry. I was walking through the lakes in Southern Calcutta, when something drew my attention... arghhhh!

The Sad Poet from Ballygunge Lake on a Bad day!

Bonolata (Pronounced: Bow Noh Law Ta)

Poet Horse-Face, our neighborhood one
Wrote poems under the evening Sun,
But one day, his pen went dry,
Sensing the presence nearby,
Of lovers in utter bliss,
Sen, Bonolata, forty, but still, a Miss,
With her handsome bashful beau,
Lahiri, Laltoo, the bald Romeo!
The breeze was so inviting
Wafts of tulips on the wing….
The duo, oblivious of all others there,
Broke status quo and shattered the air!
Bonolata did the banal thing,
Tone deaf, she began to sing-
But Horse-Face, the neighborhood one
Missing the point in his rhyming run,
The miserably irate bard skulked away,
Wishing the offenders would no longer stay!

Somewhat later, the said song waxed,
The duo appeared very relaxed,
Bonolata asked “How was it”,
Our Laureate offered “Horrible shit”!
A bit too loud, the lovers were hurt,
Disheartened by this ugly spurt,
Hand in hand they walked away!
Horse-Face finally had his day,
Reinstated in his regained seat,
Horse-Face was in domain legit!
Two seconds later he wrote an epithet,
Ecstasy in four letter words- you can bet!

Ballygunge Lake,
Kolkata
May16, 1966

Fading Away

2008-04-09T21:00:00.000+05:30

In the beginning
A single voice
And the light and shade
Played naked
Ruinous games
In torrid dampness
And sweat!

Far away from the cicadas
I lay down
Myself
On the marbled floor
Gasping-
The touch of ice flakes!

Time
Once again
Had fled-
Memories in their rhythmic walk
Ebbed
And the stars
Closed in
On my lake!

Sunrise-
I am dead!

Untruths!

2008-04-08T10:04:00.003+05:30

I asked you

As I played -
Your head nestled

On my chest

And I stared

At the eyes, whose voids

Made a patterned snare

Was it Venus at her best?

I asked you
As you peeped
And you murmured
Squirming
In sweetness
Like always
Or may be
You put me to the test
Tangled at last
In the transparent cords
Tendrils and fingers spoke
Softly in a tryst
I always believe you
Knowing some words
You speak
Are true
And because
Only half of my lies
Are untrue
As much as a laced web
Without threads!

False Promise

2008-04-05T20:20:00.005+05:30

Sometimes I drive by her lane
And ask her to hop in and chat-
She stares hard at me and yells
Shoo- you aint getting that,
But yes, she is my friend,
Also that I must make some amends!

Sometimes ago she had climbed in
Into the car, admiring my things,
And did that too, you know what
When I asked, happily she said yes,
She liked to be with her friends
But my car was a thing she always

Craved to be in, for she stood
At the corner, forever waiting
Looking for someone to do it good
For this, and more of that thing
Every time at the back of the car
I guess I had to take her a bit too far-

I guess she had taken a fancy to me
My waving at her, and she was happy
Obligingly she would get into the car
Asking to be driven quite far
Leaning into each other, of ecstasy
And that glint of desire I could see-

You know my car is usually dirty
She would stare at the dirty mess
She would clean it up, and the popcorn
Made me a little full of happiness
And snuggle closer, without preamble, before long
And she sang sometimes, a dreamy song

And then one day, as I passed her by,
Not really meaning that, not really knowing why
I looked away and did not wave, I never cared
I knew she looked my way and hard she stared
With a bit of the tears I had never seen
It was just that my car was new and clean!

So now, when I drive by her lane
And ask her to hop in and chat-
She stares hard at me and yells
Shoo- you aint getting that,
But yes, she is my friend,
And also that I must make some amends!

Oh yes, this is like
Missing out on the turn off in the day
And driving into the sunset
Alone
In the loser’s highway!

Urgent Thoughts

2008-04-02T22:18:00.003+05:30

A year before sixty is the best time to go-
I am alive, fully functional, and all know
That a time like this never comes
When you have had three large
And then, there is the splurge
Two more, ah, yah and oh,
Ah got to go,
Got to go
Or do it here!

Urchin Land

2008-04-01T22:14:00.007+05:30

Between here and nowhere
Through the land of the coal rich terrain
The urchins ran in
Wherever it was, the train had stopped-
And there she came
A young leader
Hardly dressed
Transiting between
Child and woman
And her band
Three siblings, perhaps
And they sang their toneless song
Spread their hands
And danced to Bidi Jalaile!
And the gents
Baring their teeth
Grinned-
Her dress had holes
And torn patches showed
Anatomical details
And how the black dust
On her feet
And dirty hair
Called for lust
In the eyes of the traveling males
So I puffed away,
Dazed
The pennies given,
The eyes knew
What they wanted
The urchins stood ground
And the guard
And the engine blew
Whistles of jeer
All aboard
The sad girl stared
Darkness came
And the men continued their card game
One club
One heart
Three no trumps
And they all thought of the thighs-
And the hand pump
They left behind
On the platform!

Bidi Jalaile is a popular song in Hindi- rather lustfully done in celluloid and video!

Wordplay

2008-03-31T22:18:00.003+05:30

Rippling sunbeams on a wall!

Words that sigh- I wish you were here!
Words that burn like sizzling affairs
Words to scent like a fragrant rose
Words throbbing when you get so close
Words to brood when not in the mood!
Words to cool like a randy dude!
Words like elfin smiles bind
Words that simple reflect the mind
Words lie like a one night stand
Words in dance like a jazz band
Words to risk like taking a chance
Words that feel like an ogling glance!
Words to say finally- supari- it’s a deal!
Words that seal- kiss me hard!
Words that frown like an upset clown!
Words that run down memory lane
Words that chill- I am insane!
Words that dare like Hips don’t lie
Words on a dead end never reply
Words that pair the two of a kind
Words like affection turn one blind
Words of desire to just turn me on!
Words to mow lie on the lawn!
Words elope when lovers flee
Words of the devils- fiendish glee!
Words that touch the lovers’ lips
Words in autumn -some faint nips
Words that stop don’t go tonight!
Words of spooks to give you a fright!
Words on a roller coaster ride
Words! Things that one tells his bride!
Words to pare- choppers and knives!
Words of cheer to brighten lives!
Words wear like raindrops on sandstone
Words that tease like my girl’s moan!
Words that leer- Tweet! Tweet!
Words are kisses, just cho chweet!
Words to stare at like cleavage lines
Words predict like zodiac signs
Word that snarl like I hate you
Words that snare like I love you!
Words that thrill – a skating rink
Words that kill- broken hearts
Words to cheer- Ole! Ole! Ole – O!
Words to fear when the boss says go!
Words upstairs- promote or simply- fire!
Words to the ex flame- fading desire
Words that just kiss and make-up
Words yelp like one-day old pup!
Word of depth- buried six feet under!
Words as big as the Himalayan blunder
Words to count- twenty toes!
Words that bring peace like a vanquished foe
Words that bleed like the pound of flesh
Words to eat like humble pie
Words of admiration- Sigh!
Words that flare like old flames
Words play like blame games!
Words on a roll- haystack!
Word that hunt like a wolf pack!
Words, words say it all!

This is an old post from my blog elsewhere!

Camp Fire For Two!

2008-03-31T18:28:00.002+05:30

Show me your heart
A poem of madness
And a dream in your smoky eyes,
Breathing
Oh yes
What would you do now?
A hand on your hand ...fingers lock

Within lies the hope that the evening fills
With deep desire,
Torrents of fire
A torrent
Tormenting
Torrid
And a wandering slow rhythm
Probing!

And the song begins...
A dance of touch...
A dance of swift thrusts
A dance of deep lust
A dance of poems
On bare skin
A dance that sizzles!

In cabaret
Bare steam and brazen scents
Tied in a thin string
A dance to the banjo on my lap
Coming alive
Wanting more
Too good-
In the flicker of candle lights...

Dream dream dream...
A dance beyond time
Climbing high...
Claiming
Give, a little more
And cries
Beats...
Timpanic beats
Rhythms of Zeus
Wanting wanting wanting
Wanton desire
And a roaring fire
Just dreams
And open, bare breasts
With beads of sweat
With abandon
Swaying with the beat
And cats walking
On tiptoes
Swing in the heat
And the beads on hips of a maid
And the lovely hibiscus garlands
And the pearls of smiling teeth
Lips, lips lips...
Can you hear the song in my heart
Or is it the thunder in the rain
Of flowers, jasmine
This the song I sing,
Climax...
Falling
Ebbing
Just the song of lovemaking
And a piccolo piping
Lonely in the dark
And two
By the fire
Stark…

A tirade of dreams
Simply pink!
And kisses in the sunset
And asking

You can say yes,
And slip the dress
And show,
Show the shoulder
Tap tap tap...

Then?

Imagine
Turning
And walking to the camp fire
Shedding all
And calling
Fire, fire, fire!
Ooo yes!
Then?
And we gather each other
And hide
...
...

Torrid streams
Torrid dreams

How Sad

2008-03-29T17:51:00.001+05:30

How sad
Once he, a mason
Now criticizes all
With passion
Four stones
Being together!

How sad
By the street at midnight
The cobbled stones
Ring with footfalls
Of footloose dolls
And doll seekers
Sharpening
Their memories
Of the bargain
And the whispering notes
That changed hands
Before the dolls
Became women
Alive
And strained
In torrid rain
Amidst the four stones
In the lane
Cobbled
With granite
Passion cement
Before the earthquakes
Waved
How sad
Cobbled life breaks!

The four stones...
Ambitions
Possessions
Affections
Self