1

white bread and rice grains
scattered on grounds
of neighbors and manufactured enemies
are festive gifts to distract me with melodies
which ask as much for my logic
as they plunder for my silence.

where is my sponsored war this morning?
or the subsidised tea?
whose leaves seem twisted with guilt.

 

2

gullible children
flow like  landslide
across the fields-
the way their amorous parents dig fingers through muddy hair

and pray for rain at nights.

so, don’t tell them
which part of their land you own.

 

A world without garbage talk, depressed-over-competitive children, slow news, no news, more news, news 24X7, religious blood suckers, hard nosed sexists, wannabe minimalists, an invisible god, clothing censorship, no censorship, reality TV, too much TV, leaked sex tapes which would never be a big deal otherwise, golf courses, people feeling bad for themselves for not living in a neighborhood with health spas, rich and poor, conspiracy theories, bad blood, no blood in blood banks, hospital mismanagement, over priced pharmacy, expensive clothes, acceptable nudity, unacceptable cloth-less-ness, political correctness, a caste system, vote banks, silver spoons, god-men, ridiculously priced edifices in holy grounds, social statuses, facebook statuses, networking, high society, pet saloons, beauty pageants, page 3, airport paranoia, nighttime lavishness, daytime hangovers, glorified morning drinks, researches on aphrodisiacs, breast implants, nose-jobs, the need for cosmetic empowerment, and burn victims who cannot afford one, mines; and food parcels in their vicinity, nuclear weapons, weapons, war, rightists, leftists, cliques, private parties, confounding job designations, closet maintenance people-or whatever they’re called, pop-ups, expensive Internet, hunger, anorexia, no food, expensive books, designer pens, fast cars, broken highways, chic racing circuits, contrasts: NRs-USD, oil-control, territories, visas,  self immolation, absurd vacations, custom made thongs, smog-filled mornings, bigotry, anger, alpha males, overtly symbolic feminists who don’t let their  beautiful flowing hair grow, alopecia, gym-freaks, standardised tests, power cuts, wasted rivers, over used canals people parks fruits trees pavements, traffic jams, occupation of others’ lives, blockbuster cinema, thoughtless political slogans, foreign aid, reports and studies and special committees, dress codes,  propagandised education, blindfolds, designer blindfolds, blindfolds cut out of rags, acid soaked blindfolds, blindfolds that give you a 3-d experience, curriculum vitae, diarrhoea deaths, a fertilizer diet; pesticide dessert, rituals, terrorist attacks – government undertakings, old age homes, bereft and dying asylums full of living people, capital punishment, hit and run and bail and free, excellence, insomnia, first impressions, differences in equality, personal ads, relentless vigilance, distrusting co-commuter, road traffic accidents, industrial mishaps, amputations, illegal abortions, misinterpreted adolescent angst, underwhelmed fathers and restrained mothers, a job that slowly kills you, unemployment that will kill others around you, interruption, birthdays, fucking phone companies, deadlines, a list such as this.

she keeps adding hues,
and sentences- lazily handwritten
on barks of trees.

colours unsure of their panache
summon her on modest days;
and they create a rainbow.

at nights
sleeping on an elegant black sky
she becomes the moon.

the ants are tired
glasses empty
and my bought, cold air
reeks of dead leaves

a bird
has forgotten feathers,
stuck on my windows,
which seem to despair,
in arid loneliness

incomplete wings
vivid death
a story of courage-
this desert;

i have to-
run out of words.

 

if you think you are king of the world,

if you are having a swell fucking time,

if you are getting attention and feeling fly,

if you are feeling like a superman,

 

 

try licking your elbows.

 

an incomplete kiss
silences us
and never quite betrays;
or consoles, either.

its two lips lying
without words

will never complete us too.

people

in a city running on batteries

weak dark shades

gloomier than the heartless sky.

 

I,

in a city running on batteries,

am excused

as a visitor.

before a writer cries

he always

forgets his poetry.

or the tears.

 

 

…..and for you I will

 

drink up all the rainbows,

water all the suns,

tear a billion kisses,

and mock a town of guns..

Mary was sleeplessly awake
the room had grown flowers
for yellow bulbs..
she escaped inside friendly bedsheets
warm,colorful,aware.

..and words knocked on her door;
politely, which swayed;
Mary, not surprised..
whistled;
and they made love.

As smoke gradually filled up,

She became pregnant with poetry.

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