“Change is like the water slipping in through the tunnels to the fields, without change there ain’t going to be any harvest!”
The lines the poem came out of nowhere almost after I read a story.. lines and thoughts are unrelated to the story..but darkish story.. darker poem.. does that happen to you?
Vile Demon..I Salvage Thee
Hast thou ever feared thyself?
That gnawing grey wolf that claws at thy heart,
Hast thou felt him breathe with thy breath?
Hast thou felt power in veins and the stabbing of awoken evil?
And felt the contempt for the sheep.. the flock?
The dark dread that teaches thy darkest abilities..
That entices thee to come and sip its delicacies ripped from other’s hearts..
The empty den in thy soul where thou sleeps in peace day and night..
Days when thou vanquishes other’s will.. Their wishes
And haunt their nights with your sultry nonchalant smile..
Aaah… dear soul.. Why thou hast fetched my dark demons?
Thou make what schemes.. Thou hast no vengeance..
And yet set thy feet in my light.. Laugh and live with such pride..
But to lead power to its fateful destiny.. To grind and dissolve into zilch the slimy filth..
To save the benign and castrate the abdominal vanity of power..
Power that feeds on and feeds also the human mind..
I salvage thee.. Vile demon, I salvage thee.
Ripened wounds, stuttering tears,
Gushing memories, fluttering past the present,
Each wish adorning his eyes beseeched each lash of mine;
He was the sound of the still stream of life,
He awoke the innocence of a child wandering in haven,
He was the white rose fostering peace now lost,
Lost in the frightening wars fought with the reflection visible only to the beholder,
He was the cause, the only cause of each tear that dressed the smile,
But did he know the love I bred for those eyes, the soul, the smile,
The agony that it splurged in the poet’s lines,
And yet through the tears a love, a hope glimmered,
Years passed and his love was breath beyond the soul could breathe in,
It was a golden cage trapping a wild dove; it was a bible of thoughts to be drunk on,
But a bible?….. the soul couldn’t feast on…
The sweetened wine of love twisted and thickened,
Now the bitter taste of bloodied chains, injecting adrenaline to the mind,
Cleansing it of all its wishes, breaking the strangling chains,
Love and wishful future locked in a coffin lay beneath the ocean of freedom.
Dust and mist, can there ever shine through a clear view of the path.. to early to prophecy indeed,
Seeking the lost song of self in the hymns sung by wild birds lining the paths of many a cross roads,
Sensations afresh bite the flesh,
Words of many a poetic masters walking the line of freedom and love,
Teaching the soul the broken rules, the flimsy notions,
Learning and stamping the blackened laws that suck the color of an opaque orderly life,
I choose freedom over love, Is love ever freedom? is love ever salvation? I ask thee…
Is it an angel or is it the two faced backstabbing demon harboured within it, to be conjoined with it?
Betrayal of sorts darkens.. no rather glistens the heart of love..
Freedom from it.. is freedom from human form..A mighty improbable task,
Yet I choose freedom sans love of the sort adorned by its loving laws.
There are stories to be shared,
Stories of love and war, loss and misused hearts,
There tears to be shed, and smiles to be felt,
In each soul there is much more to dwell on,
There is much more to delve in,
And there are words of a delicate fashion, lining those eyes,
Waiting to be forged by the hand of a stranger,
Waiting to be painted within those outlines,
The shades of scenes the heart immerses in,
One Scene merging into another, a song emerging from its wishful adolescences, humming wishes in mingled voices,
The innocent and impatient flutter of the wings of the little mynah,
Hoping and chirping from branch to branch,
Only wanting to settle on a branch of its likeness,
Or waiting to find a mate to ring in tune with,
Like the Restless fidgeting entangled fingers of a lass,
And the downcast eyes,that sway and swing from side to side, and up into the sky,
Sometimes lost in depths of a well of thoughts drilled in the airs of her days and nights,
Waiting for answers, waiting for a ride to her own soul,
Waiting for her silent song to be heard by a queer heart with a keen ear,
waiting, searching, waiting..
The moon dawns, lighting up the sun’s soul,
A soul that lives in the earth’s wind, in the drops of the ocean,
A soul that darkens when dusk sets, but glows in the moonlight, the slow and silent flame of a candle,
A young lad lays awake conversing with the stars, his toy friend cradled in his arms,
Fumbling through his questions, his fears, his discoveries in wide eyed wonder,
Is the world so enormous and I only a speck? What is it that I see up there?
Who listens to his innocence? A mother on earth or a friend in the skies,
There are stories to be shared,
To be read in the smiles and tears of strangers-our friends,
As in each soul, there is much to dwell in,
There is much to delve in
A soul can drown a soul in itself,
A soul can carry a soul to the sky, The winds of life teaching her to fly,
If we listen to sound of life, to the whistling of souls,
To the misty words in eyes of friends, and foes we fathom, but yet both are alike
We would find the infinite wonder, the universe in the scintillating soul of the human eye,
Save yourself the from the chilling pain
Save your heart from the brazen game
Oh boy! He is such heart burn,
Oh boy! You are such a scalding sight to my raving eyes!
There ain’t any victories, the dice rolls with null favours,
Time etched in mind feeding on a feast of memories,
A trail of moments spent in penetrating charm,
Spent lost in those eyes, that choke my breath,
Do I see hate rising from angst, do I see a strange likeness, I think not,
Do I see a wild penchant to seize all? Or do I see a fuming desire to cease all, destroy and demolish?
It’s all human, to feel and to suffer in our longings and dreams,
I only wish to untangle from those eyes, the words that speak one a many truths,
Words I must remind myself are not in my name,
But words that might forge the path to your soul,
Yet I ask, in restless desperation,
Do I see just a man in his prime fiery nature, or do I see you, just you?
A fragrance soaked in sweet sweat dries the throat,
A tear of craving slides down lost in the twists and passions of flesh,
Delving and rising, deep faltering breaths, naked eyes, naked thoughts, shredded sheaths of yearnings,
Soul is left at the mercy of the unbound sensations, the sinister feisty eyes,
He is a drug, an addiction of the wretched fickle heart,
He is but a death wish of the slipping moment,
Oh boy! He such a heart burn,
Oh boy! You are such a scalding sight to my raving eyes!
See life in what is doomed dead,
And a rose bud shall bloom from fraying petals in dawn light,
Touch the angst in another’s eyes
And thou shall be the melting ice on a burnt soul, a dreary night,
Dream in faith with another in his brittle might,
And a babe in his soul shall see the light brighter in every site,
Teach and re teach hope to a falling kite,
And it shall fly from one roof to another in eager delight,
Smile at the curious child in each one’s mind,
And find unknown questions, unlearnt answers on far off stars glisten the starry eyes,
Run along that little girl in the woman’s soul, to her fairy god mother,
And see each tear, each sear on her fore head dry and dull as you walk back at her side,
Embrace the need of each man, woman, child naked on the pavement, a cold night
And warm the city with warmest smiles from the forlorn beggared souls of our hungry times,
Find that grain of love holding together your own soul in glorious fights,
And you shall engulf and seal the darkening hearts, the foregone tranquil paths with fiery firelight.
Framed Piece Of Heaven
There was blood, there were bloodied tears shed from dying eyes,
But she was peace, she was innocence, she was life,
She was love; she was worth living for,
All died, but as the last breath fell,
That framed piece of heaven, her face and her touch was all that was left,
It was a demented world, burning vengeance,
Squirming toads, hissing snakes in the fields of barley,
Smoke from burning souls, stench of slimy minds,
But her fragrance like of the lily, the White daisy, entranced the air,
Lifted the feeble soul from those intolerable dead moments,
Walking down the path to live in her memories,
Her smile, the spark in her eyes, the face that knew the soul,
Erased the pain, eased the harsh breaths,
Blowing lightly into the veins a drop of fickle hope for life,
Eyes that reached the pain veiled and unveiled, that see demons haunting the day,
And hear whispers plotting, hunting power, bellowing cacophony from the conch of destruction,
The heart that bled with the sufferings from the sins of a sick world,
She took it all away,
She blinded the dread; she kissed away the pain, she doused those memories;
Only she remained,
The soul found peace, found shelter, found life in her, in that framed piece of heaven.
India’s Daughter- It leaves you shaking. Nothing that you don’t know or haven’t heard. But listening to those bloody Non-Living beings (do words exist? words for them can’t exist) who unfortunately think and breathe and live, it makes you feel empty inside, the brutality, those thoughts, the ideas. You feel no hope, you know there is not a chance that eradication of evil will ever be a reality, all we can do is prevent, heal, punish. Because there is no cause, a need for power that has crossed the line of need and is just a habit, rape and abuse is a habit, brutality is a habit, yeah, imagine that, no cause for that makes any sense.
Now that’s a very good documentary, how in the devil’s name does it corrupt our culture, how is it insensitive for a culturally sensitive society to be watching the film. Talking about rape, its effects, the thought process that supports and instigates it, how can that be culturally insensitive, dumb, plain dumb.
First of all, at the risk of sounding like a completely confused 21st century young adult, what is our culture again? Is it about tolerance, respect, upholding ideals, or what, just dancing on durga puja and ganesh festivals, talk about destruction of evil, protection, women power, ghar ki lakhsmi and blah blah.. Yeah right let’s never talk about the culture of rape and abuse to make sure our ego is never deflated, Lets sweep that under the mat, keep it locked behind doors and let the acts thrive on the mats behind the locked doors. The awesome façade of Indian culture, lets keep that up.
I am sure the good of our culture does pervade into certain streets, into certain homes and certain arenas of our life, but lets face it, we are hardly ever tolerant in our everyday life towards other’s thoughts, towards change,we like deciding what the another must to do with his or her life. And that never helps build a society which is a safety net for not only women but those to whom life shows its ugliest face. I talk about our community cause I that’s all I have experienced.
But why is it so difficult to talk about the real evil, the squirming worms in the minds of so many and the stinky words that leave their tongues. Why not watch that, acknowledge that, accept that.Why not rip off those tongues?
If I had my way, I would make sure the judges not only lost their jobs, and if not have them hung at least make sure they ended up in one of the jails with the best of the brutal criminals who have crossed all limits with men and women. They could talk with them about our Indian culture then and how its no place for a woman,lets see how long it saves them,..enjoy you”%$2$@$”!
Yeah sounds like revenge, but peace can only get you only so far. Laws-please have them define human before applying them to human beings. The idea is not to follow an ideal, it is to save lives, realize the value of a “human” life and act upon it. If intervention at an early age through education can nurture the minds, can save those ones who are broken and are on the edge or are about to cross over to a path from from where there is no return, save them, heal those who need the healing but drown those who actually deserve death, painful death in lava.
Rain rain hail upon us, hail upon us harder than ever again,
Wash the scum, clear the mist, carry the pain,
Carry it down to the hell hole forever again,
As I pass the sun on my left, edging to a hideout in the cloudy bed,
And a mirror on my right, reflecting orange and red,
Baffled I am which one is truly bright and which one the treacherous light,
Drench the mirrors, or shatter their sight, banish the dreary clouds before tonight,
Rain rain, beat on my flesh, cleanse my soul of my devil gaze,
Dull my daze, show me my true face,
Take me home following the true sun’s heated blaze.
A wish to reach that merciless breath of beauty,,
A wish to touch the coiled tangles, strands of a soul,
A wish to find a way out to let the whispers brush the fated mind,
And a wish for many a wish to be heard,
But only to find that none sound in that mind,
Standing in the graveyard of spirits,
Spirits, we wait to be called home by them,
But its weak, a weak soul that walks on that land,
Controlled by the feeble mind, A mind dimmed by the slashing blade of love,
Narrowed doorways, a struggle to breathe through vest of pain,
Fortitude is to feel the pain, to survive it,
But it threatens to tear through thy flesh,
Trapping it in the pandemonium of treacherous lies,
Lies carved by the human world’s thickening bubble of modals of survival,
Manipulations of tongues, our tongue has destroyed us,
Or is it our mind?
Love clasped in the scarred, roughened fist,
The fist of a dreadful beast, a beastliness of disbelief in love,
A love that emanates from the lonely lost eyes of a broken soul,
From the eyes of a mistress in waiting,
From the eyes of a lamb, from the touch of an innocent maiden,
We no more hear the screams of dying souls,
We no more hear the desperation of a motherless being,
We no more understand love as love,
we care not, we are blinded by the desire for that false sense of reality,
A worthless sense of safety as we following notions,
Safe from being lost in the realm of unknown,
We are afar from the man who became a man,
The man who found fire, who found passion,
Who found love, who found his heart in another’s eyes,
Love is infinite even in its infinitesimal existence,
Yet its flows only in the seas, blows only with the wind,
As man fades from nature, As man alienates his own nature,
Love remains veiled by colourless existence,
It was a foretold destiny to reach the end,
To reach the tombstone that has the soul’s love etched on it,
Yet the cries resound from the garden of forlorn souls,
Demented greed, rising lust, demons inhabit the air,
And sorrow is fodder to all,
To some it is the wine of celebration,
To some it is the poison, They drink in hopes of falling beneath the earth
And some drink in the remembrance of the merciless beauty.