A word before you read

I am not really a poet and these are mere attempts to write poetry. I would conveniently call them free verse to escape criticism. I feel an urge to express an idea or a deep feeling or strong emotion or just describe a scene. The result is what you see.

Tuesday, May 24, 2016

ESSE

Life is always around hazy corners 
or in withering labyrinths of the past
never ever in the fleeting bubble of ‘now’.

For ‘now’ threatens ‘me’ to the fringes –

my automated thoughts, my gluey addictions, 
my smoggy emotions and my blinkered views.

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

Twisted Humanity


A spade scoop of mud, a twisted swollen hand
reveals – of man or woman who knows
another scoop and another tender hand
appears – a child’s perhaps?
Patches of white where putrid flesh crumbs
had stripped off into the erasing earth.
Spades hesitating a moment to reveal more
outstretched hands of soul-bodies buried
reaching out for that last whiff of life
shortened with a slash, a cortex shatter
or bloody bursts puncturing vital body parts
by smithereens of screeching metal death darts.

Innocent victims of beliefs
in warped ideas of twisted minds.
The nauseating stink of inhumanity lingers on.


Monday, September 2, 2013

My Childhood Mountain

Every time I pass by it on the train
my childhood mountain remains unchanged.
I had conquered nimble footed those hills
prancing along merry paths made by rills.
Now weak-kneed, I can barely descend
though its sight makes my soul ascend.

Its holds in its womb a fecund valley
countless creatures, lush green paddy
pepper scrambling up towering trees
jackfruit and fruit trees growing with ease.
With equal greedy ease it’s plundered
Yet all is gracefully, generously rendered.

My childhood mountain gently mocks
my aging haggard body laid waste
by greedy tastes and corporate haste.
Every time up and down my hill I climb
it slows my pace, makes me sublime
and glues me to solid ground.

Wednesday, July 3, 2013

Rogue Web

A faint blip in the cosmic web,
marked its birth and its ebb.
Weaving a fine elementary first mesh
it began in the web of life its life rush
to explore, play and trap prey thoughts.

Bigger it grew, intricate and thicker
dual threads of good, bad, it and other.
Then as it spewed, threads of dark desire grew,
widening its move, reach, play and slew
weaving ceaselessly self-obsessed sheaths.

With a swift coup the web went rogue
snaring its source in a universe vague
crafting a web of illusions as in dreams
entwined in a maze of thought-seams
brittle strands of a secure sand castle. 

Monday, February 18, 2013

Death in 2030


A lone cocoon clasps desperately
a semi-wilted drooping branch
of a half-dead wobbly tree
in a vast moribund field
of burnt grass and straggling plants.

The cocoon quakes and cracks.
The probing feelers a blast of acrid air greets.
Its body convulses with indecision:
discard it cosy cocoon, its secure womb?
The pungent air rebukes its birth,
the frying sun, its genesis.

It flaps its pall disfigured wings
with its deformed proboscis to probe
faint nectar scent, first droplets of elixir
from emaciated flowers in the scarred field
tainted by noxious dumps,
treacherous flesh-spitting mines
and dregs of death-belching bombs
- residues of human progress.

A few feeble flaps drain its life sap.
It topples down to the ground
from where it sprung.
Its wings open and close in last gasps
of poisoning, smothering, oxygen-deprived air.

A final tremor of life runs.
Silence follows.

Saturday, September 15, 2012

Star Gazing



A power grid collapse can
tumble your surreally  lit world.
It’s then the hazy night casts
its coal coat over the earth
obliterating differences, neutralizing
everything in the light of darkness
except the distant starry ember topping.

Then when you peer into
the incomprehensible boundless void
of the countless star-studded heavens
realization jolts your entire being
of how false-safely ensconced you are
in your caged self,  your skin-wrapped universe,
with your space as large-little as your head
and how sagacious and big-headed
you pretend to be.

Then when you gaze long and steady
at those bone shaking starry void of heaven
Realization dawns
on the futility of expressing being
with mindless action of regressive progress;
on the wisdom of being  rooted in being,
wherein effortless becoming flows,
time dilates to the now of being from which you act.
Realization makes you
break into laughter
expand your being in inclusion
to throb in unison with the universe.

The stars will jolt you
and the heavens shatter you
on a night the power grid breaks.

Sunday, September 9, 2012

I You He


I’m a blue-eyed blonde
you are brown and he’s
black, you say
So what, I say
Scratch the micron skin
dig a little deep
we are all the same beneath:
tissues, marrow, blood and bones
a heart that beats and
a stomach that churns
you and he and I
in sorrow, grieve
in sadness, pine
in anger, roar
in joy, float
in jealousy, twist and turn.
So how are we different?
Did you say we are culturally different?
Beliefs, customs and art are not the same, I admit
but how does your colour argument fit?
A monotone one-cultured world
nature and nurture never unfolds.
Stop! Not again “this land is ours”!
Probe your history
‘whose land’ becomes a mystery.
Go up in space and look down
borders and boundaries blur
illusions of mind break down.
So drop your pretensions
wake up from your delusions and
walk naked my friend!