Voice me

The world shouldn’t exist in anarchy
There shouldn’t be wars or any war drums
There shouldn’t be beats
that silence those who breathe
From hands of who
They sound their energy

Don’t you see
I was a kid just as you
praying for a future
We were one,
for the stars were to many
For us to see any doldrums

What happened my friend
We used to play hide and seek
to no end
We used to believe in
Football, basketball, volleyball
Rock, pop, hip hop
Strawberries, raspberries,
blueberry ice creams
What happened, why do you
Keep fiddling with that blackberry

Don’t you see time and again
I come back to see
The little dance you promised to keep
Up and down the merry go round
Circling, yes! circling at the same spot
You promised you loved me
So I am back again
Don’t you see
Burglary, theft, murder, divorce,
Marriage. Kids. workload
Complacent to me
Your hands theyr so filthy
with greed

Don’t you see
There!
that was the past as you like to believe
I am here again
Time time time – I am the spell
Don’t you remember
As you ran into the wooden door
Jumping in bed that morning
What a beautiful child you were

Don’t you see
I am your present
And im back to release
That little symphony
You tickled on the piano keys
Don’t forget me
this time
Please

While God sat in the vanity van

There are gods
and there are gods
Who do you decide to keep?
Who shall be the one;
The one that
resides as a mere belief ?
Or one that decides not to preach ?

There are questions you ask to
No other than your self belief
Lest in words you find
Ones who agree
As (when) you insist
There are gods to keep
As you pick them
From a busy street

I sit silently
Pondering
what a mystery you create
On the hustlers street
There are gods
And such gods you steal

They must look like you
On a canvas sheet
Talk like you
And of what you preach
They are your gods
You flip
Through a magazines

There are gods and
such gods you preach
You are men
and as men you deceive

none but yourselves
in a quest to please
idols you find in people
in them,
of what you must be

And today there is he
And tomorrow
swept away
into
Another shiny monastery

There are gods
And such gods you keep
Nothing but a reflection of
What you believe

As I idealize you
There are your own
You keep
How could we ever
Ever agree?

There are gods
Just not in what we perceive

Sermon to a Mathematical Society

Let me go down to dissect
every ludicrous thought behind the scene
as I rupture thoughts flooded with debris
of the unspoken virtues of our envy
we live our reality
through the sermons of the dead
into the land of such fallacies
our children are born as ghosts, plundered
on rage of nations over nations
we are people,
we forget at times such as these
where is the form in the formless?
where is the color in the colorless?
distinctions separate you and me
yet we build on the mathematical society
where my cause is the effect on we
in our eagerness to plead our sanity
to our unborn
wars bygone, wars go on
the sounds of the bombs are silent now
there is noise within me
let us breath the air of peace
where is the soulful journey?
wrapped in cloaks, “knowledge”
there is no bigger devil I see
in the name of serendipity
I am you are we are nothing but just lazy
Monuments of our times
Stranded between the paths
Of prayers, appeals, beliefs, morality
We are no heroes
Heroes don’t live
to see themselves succeed
lets not build this family
into vengeful gun trotters
living on the street
listen, listen closely
I hear screaming
The shouts of the children
We once were to be
Lets let them out of the misery
Of practicality
Of partiality
of the illusions of superiority
let them breathe free
let our children speak

The Cuckoo Clock

Of all forms of emotions I must feel
Guilt is where
Righteousness finds its plea
My morality is
When such plea justifies belief

As I become me
From a child’s folly
Towards the mirage of
The illusive emancipation
Of a boy; who as a man is deceased

Between causality and
Actions of responsibility
It is I who breathes
Slowly into manhood and mortality
Riches and the glitterati

The more I think I begin to wonder,
If any of it all seems to be me
Over and again as experiences tell
Stories revealed
Notions of the meandering stream
Engulf the silence of the mysterious dream

Of all forms of emotions
Realizations scream
The more I grow the smaller I feel
More I gain poorer I seem

An ageless child
As a man deceased, I

Thought of the Day

Given the sense of reality I must
Find the degrees of construed vision
As formations of experiences attach me
To the wonders of reminiscing
The gentle strokes of moments bygone
Reoccur in captions within dreamy eyes
Such attachment finds me restricted
Faces must change as reality recreates
Emotions remain constant
Of learning from those in the past
The present reveals a pattern
A wondrous I smiles at me
What if then was no different to now
And now remaining a mere projection to
Thoughts subdued
I must learn …
For notions of eternity only last momentously
I must conceive
For the truth bestowed on me lasts an eternity

The Linguist

Through words one might find solace
Within experience as the glitterati
As I sense the outside through
parameters of limited knowledge
between unity and subjectivism, the bridge
misled towards constricted forms
Their perishable fate becomes me

lest we tread on the path of devotion, selflessly
a fearlessness stride takes contours
within my own being,
in shape less journey
I am not blaze of my actions
Becoming them instinctively; finding
I am nothing but a dream

A dream where the only dear one seems me
Where I is the center point reality
The darkness of such roads lead into
An infinite
Not one that sets free, not in union
But into
the wilderness of exasperation needs

confounding and restricting
my solace in words is impermanent
every now and again to find newer ones
pacifying my insecure mortality
I become a sensory machine
An active source of infinite reactivity

Fed through experience
The light within me is veiled, through
An image of the self
Built within a narrative extensively
Trying to please the need of my ego
I am nothing now
but a conductor it seems

Merely gratifying an egotist’s needs
I am in search of solace
Wondering whether or not
I am in the right place

As the moment passes
I am no more a dream of senses
I am awake –
As the fear of
What might become of me trenches

Roundabout Thee

Questions I ask
myself now and again
for the tussles
of the incongruous thoughts
mysteriously stir
the origin of peace within me

as the soul writes its own destiny
I victoriously move towards
the destruction of thee
Chances as I plead
Such that I must perceive
resolve
To destruct indeed

Quite an anomaly of resolutions
I see
For every one such made
Harder to keep
But resolutions that keep me astray
are none
but ones that seem to agree with me

thus far what I encumber
although none I want to keep
bound in the paradox of action, see
forever a debt I receive

clusters of learning fill with abundance
the knowledge I once seeked
as my knowledge grows
I discern what lies in me, my belief

The colossal loss of
As I see
Helplessly create a rift between
I who once was thee
In complications of the static
Clouding, a thoughtful void
I lose sight of me

As much as I seek
There is winter within
The garden I once filled with thee

It is my concern
In such action bound as I breathe
The voice of you occurs
And disappears in me

Lest I speak
I am the origin
of an amalgamation
Construed by fiction of me
I am a wanderer
Losing and finding
My path roundabout thee