Brazen

When the tears are at the the brink,
The ship of hope's about to sink,
When deep in gloom emotions freeze,
Sears open afresh in the cold breeze,
He reaches out for a helping hand,
And he's left far-far behind,
Aestival warmth gives way to the cold,
Comes to his mind the stories untold,
Creeping and crawling to a crimson cage,
Self-inflicted wounds come of age,
Grotesque manifestation of his fears,
In every little thing far and near,
He yearns in desperation for the sunshine,
And in horripilation, shivers run down his spine,
In resplendent glory and unfazed,
In his sanctum he stands brazed!

Writer's Block

Creativity, the weapon of my choice,
In its sheath for a period too long,
Awaiting an inspiration, As much as a noise,
To not let these feelings prolong!

I walked on thro' crowded streets,
Conversed with a discordant few,
Gouged out my eyes for enormous fleets,
And buried my inhibitions on a pew!

Strained my neck staring at the sky,
At the flight of a boisterous bevy,
Obscure interpretations flash by,
Over flooding sanity's levee!

Hither and thither my mind scurries,
Paranoid I start to trot,
Though in my mind a million worries,
Still none to inspire a rhythmic plot!

A spark I seek even underneath,
The salinity of the dead sea,
A spur to destroy the parasitic sheath,
Just a push would set me free!

The Missionary

White robes glide through the dark,
Like wolves encircle a stranded soul,
Preaching the fable of Noah's ark,
A million stories still left untold.

A touch of gold and holy water,
Then their sins are far behind,
And the poor heathen shivers in tatters,
Sleeps in hunger with a weary mind.

Holier than thou, he stands tall,
He the judge of human actions,
The tatterdemalion's back is to the wall,
In his heart a flurry of emotions.

Nailed to the cross the beloved son,
His sons they run their minds will,
Rots in pain the innocent one,
While the messengers shoot to thrill!

On the parish's head the heathen's curse,
But a touch of gold to keep moving on,
We shed a tear, Humanity's hearse,
Carries on with a funeral song..........

Lead me to Light

Lead me to light, Oh Dear One!
Sobs in pain your once mighty son,
Hold my hand and I'll follow,
My deepest fears I can swallow,
Defenestrate my fraidy thoughts,
Lighten the heart that now rots,
Lead me through the darkest jungle,
Where on fears unknown we stumble,
Swerve with me the hairpin bends,
Hold me from falling and defend,
Hover above to punish my insolence,
Cajole me out of my imprudence,
Do what you have always done,
Just stand by your needy son,
Can't imagine how much I long,
To rest my head against your arm........

Flesh-Angst

While the end of their worlds' at the brink,
For the grotesque dance they gear up,
Like before the funeral, The one last prink,
Matchless the earthly vices, We never wake up!

Swing and sway to the devil's tunes,
Tainted souls and mouths to feed,
Of a huge determination, Remnant ruins,
Necessity, Root of all evil, Avarice it breeds!

Whips on her stark naked back,
Lust bites by the dozen, None to complain,
Towards all this, Justice goes slack,
None but her to blame, A helping hand refrained!

Trade of flesh, The lowliest of dominions,
Obligations, Vengeance and broken dreams,
Whatever the reasons, Pushed into the crimson terrains,
None to shed a tear, In the silent night her screams..........

Procrastination..........

Desperate cries in the dark air,
Shells rain on the kindergarten shelves,
Sympathies of the world drowned in oil,
Not a single soul left to care,
Millions die even as a womb swells,
Over guineas and faith and mere soil,
They fight to their doom,
Along go hapless victims too,
To an early grave, A common tomb,
Like dunes of sand opinions change,
Another mushroom cloud brews,
A loved one's death no longer strange,
Call the romantics who only write,
To the flower in the maiden's hair,
As I write to the decayed blossom,
Which rests on her beloved's grave,
The sun even stops to seem bright,
The heavyset darkness surrounds,
Pervading grief and heaving bosoms,
Mangled body of her unrecognisable son,
Once the apple of her eye,
Only tears now wet the bloodshot eyes,
As a pink cadillac passes by,
He drives on, His own life's to save,
The wretched they search the chosen one,
Expected to fall right from the sky,
Tattooed into their hearts,
Beliefs of the passing time,
Anthems of rebellion lips they sing,
But none the fire in their actions,
Reincarnates the Angel of Death,
Manifests in a million hearts,
Misery and pain all they'd bring,
They wait for the evil sanction,
And spread hate all around,
Call them all who speak of injustice,
Sheltered from the horrendous present,
Should be the one roasted alive,
Not the commoner by the street,
Not even the industrious peasant,
Court-martial the one with the bullet-proof car,
Not the one who never took a bribe,
Justice, Justice the evergreen chant,
From the inception of the tribe,
Wayward minds and wayward wants,
The fools they wait in vain,
Anticipation of the holy rain,
To wash the blood-stained ground,
Dreams of another Newfoundland,
And we procrastinate...........

The Family

Over the hills and far away,
By a brook a thatched hut,
A very few knew, There did stay,
A small content family,
They were four, but,
Clung as one, Each other's company,
Swimming in their fish-bowl,
Never there were whiter souls,
They'd live and die for each other,
Would kill to shield another,
Such fierce affection never was known,
Still by a brook they lived,
They reaped only what they sown,
And sang as they reaped,
Gleeful and gay as they talked,
Merry was the word for them!

To ward off the evil eye,
The lady she'd put aside,
A little prayer for the one,
With whose grace, She had borne a son,
The little boy, The apple of their eyes,
Loved by everyone just the same,
Got presents bigger than his size,
When his father went out for game,
The head, The sturdy man,
With a heart bigger than himself,
Showered love, But dealt with a firm hand,
Holding them closer than himself,
Then the lovely bud of a girl,
Would've blossomed into the prettiest flower,
If not the spite of the world,
Had shown its impeccable power!

The little one wandered on his own,
A very fine glad day,
With all the thickets overgrown,
He soon lost his way,
Still adventurous, Appropriate to his age,
Farther and farther he went,
Till he met a cur in rage,
Looked him from where the road bent,
He ran as fast as his little legs,
Could carry him around,
On his heel the foaming beast,
But the path to the hut was found,
Then the dog got him square,
Around his tiny ankle,
Then though the cur was scared,
The damage was done!

The family wept bitter tears,
Only death could help the little boy,
But his death none could bear,
But were left with no choice,
None made as much as a noise,
As the rustling leaves in a breeze,
In a moment it was all decided,
All their lives would they seize,
His favourite porridge was made,
Furtive good-byes they bade,
And then the man, Mixed the venom,
It sweetened their last supper,
They dined amidst all merry,
Even at death they would cling as one,
And now aboard their last ferry,
Their last journey they undertake.........

Fall from Grace.......

Reminiscent of past glory, Her eyes twinkle,
Pores into the remnant ruins, The faded periwinkle,
Gouges out those lovely eyes, The glorious past,
Too bad like the wind, It flew away too fast!

All the bling that clung, She had sashayed,
Like poisoned spears they pierce now, The words she said,
With unbelievable spite was spurned, Advances of affection,
Warded off were true loves, With immaculate precision!

Cloudy and misty her eyes, The Sun sets,
On what she was, And never would be,
No flicker of hope, No light, Her dilapidated heart,
Weeps to its content, In this cold breeze.

Realisation dawned, It had taken too long,
She waited so much, For prudence to hop along,
Content that her conviction, and a bit of hope,
Remains, Still strong, At this end of the rope!

Sentimental and philosophical, As she narrates,
The story of her life, She says,
'This is the truth, Oh, human race!
No doubt there'll be, A fall from Grace.'.

Open Your Eyes

Lying in front of me, Yet so far,
From each other we are,
Still the souvenirs of good times,
Flashes across my weary mind,
I touch your face with a shaky finger,
And say, ' Open you eyes and talk to me'.

Fuss over minuscule tiffs we made,
And meaningless goodbyes we bade,
Over a cup we'd forget it all,
Brings me to tears, This cold breeze,
Won't you catch me, If I'm to fall,
Won't you open your eyes and talk to me.

Soothsayers, There are too many,
But this a pain, Too hard to console,
On a trail of tears, I wait for an epiphany,
On a thorny bed I lie and roll,
Through the tears I manage to mumble,
Won't you open your eyes and talk to me.........

The Fair Waif

Cries of hunger from the fair waif,
Twisting of arms and legs about,
No one around, None to tuck him safe,
None to laugh, None to smile for that million-dollar pout.....

For a very special friend.....

Among the riper fruits on the branches of my life,
A nightingale with the sweetest melody,
Amidst storms the stalk did thrive,
The song still pleases, amid all this cacophony.

With sky the limit, We flew long,
Stunted wings spread to the furthest,
Closer than ever, Not exceeding a furlong,
Till the aura reached its brightest.

With the wheel of time burns it all,
From the axle to the spindle,
Arise we might never after the fall,,
But assured am I my love won't dwindle.

Remorse and relief all at once,
God forbid all my love be spurned,
Run I may like the zephyr runs,
I sigh in relief, The lesson was learnt.

Staying not a second longer,
From the instant we take us for granted,
Cherish even the times yonder,
Remember the journey, Not just where we landed......

Mother Lament

Tearing a raw piece of her flesh apart,
He carries on, A song on his lips, Hope in his heart,
Into the flame, A million plans to foil,
Voluntarily! That surprises me, For the discrimination of soil!

It was said to be, A gem of an occupation,
Of a few among the elite population,
The blood they'd spill would be over pages,
To be immortalised like the great sages!

Among the bravest, He fought with all his might,
For contumacious reasons, Supposedly his birthrights,
His comrades gone high above in wisps of smoke,
Like a single bullet scatters the humongous flock!

Her wait for Him like Atlas' wait for the end,
No glimmer of hope, No light at the bend,
The glorious burden, A tad more her nerves could bear,
Her fingernails dig deep into her flesh, She's overcome with fear!

The true son of soil, Marches till he breaks,
Her hapless cries resound over stoic lakes,
Futile furtive glances at the hand of God,
She is dismissed without as much as a nod!

To them, He just another unfortunate fool,
He gave up everything as their expensive wager's tool,
To her, he, a part of her soul,
She silently weeps away the death of her foal.........

Brains in a pickle!

Brainwashed! On smooth soapy stones they lay,
Metaphorical blows to their head they take,
No, not a shadow, to an illusion they pray,
Oaths and promises to wash away their sins,
And unmentionable things an illusion brings!

A sacrifice of blood and sweat the enslaved pays,
Now showered with lauds of falsest praise,
I laugh aloud, at the beliefs they fancy,
They hail me a blaspheme, but mercy!
I'm human! I wish everyone like me was awake!

The Downtrodden Rises

Right at the bottom of the class,
The wretched little kid belonged,
Innumerable jabs and pokes he let pass,
Just him and his old broken set of crayons,
Solitude brewing a great big storm,
Sheets and sheets painted on with red,
No hint of emotion on his sleeve was worn,
Resound deep inside the smarting words they said!

A silhouette lurks beneath his wounded heart,
None but himself can hear it beat,
Stares at the subliminal little work of art,
At the brink of breakdown deeply breathes,
None left now he finds himself to blame,
The deep deceit in his misery he fails to see,
All he did was bow low as ever in shame,
Only a miracle now would set him free!

At the dusk of his oppression he lies,
On the grass looking up at the sky,
No escape from his torments however he tries,
He wonders how it would be just to die,
With none to mourn, none to weep,
No epitaph on his cold lonely grave,
No flower to adorn him when he's asleep,
Can't for a bit of warmth this cold man crave?

With spite and hate in his cold bosom,
He walks away, a sense of urgency in his gait,
He swears to tackle this all consuming spasm,
The hour is high, got not a second to waste,
When detest and deceit is all you've seen,
You're not to blame, You're no more human,
When none care for who you are, where you've been,
Treated like a man-devouring caiman.

With a flick of his wrist a man is slain,
His throat slit with the sharpest of knives,
Sharpened on his own rough trysts with pain,
He steps over the man, more lives to seize,
BEWARE BLOODY SWINES, YOU COME NEXT!
He laughs with a wicked gleam in his eye,
Another one goes down as the world stares vexed,
Scared to death, they know they'll die!

Amazing how changes arise at the blink,
From a milk-feasting cat to a blood-drawing feline,
With the gore adorning him like bling,
And he carries on with no regret, over rugged terrain!

My Love

Holding on to me like the night sea embraces the sun,
Emotions including juxtaposing of sheer pain and agony,
Sears of pain like rain on windshields of cars that run,
Like residents of a stamped upon and destroyed ant colony!

Dissolving in depressing gloom as salt does in fresh water,
I lie awake on my back looking at the stars and ponder,
What went wrong,I try to get to the root of the matter,
Where did I err, It still don't ring a bell and I just wonder.....

My Will

At perch on a mere anthill,
Looking down upon all the rest,
The ones I held close, Now seem so far,
It's not thou, but the power of my will,
A hurdle to cross, still cold in my breast,
I fail to see thy warm heart,
While thou shinest like a lonely star,
And my conviction still holds us apart........

The Studded Sky!

Look! The stars shine like lost gems,
I dream of floating about the milky-way,
And that may, put to rest all my whims,
And might put away all my crazy puns!
I glance once more at the night sky,
Tintinnabulations of joy and despair at once,
Lying on the grass I look and sigh,
The things they say to lead me astray!

Lust

Lured by the aroma of the forbidden fruit,
The modern temptress loses it all to fate!
Beguiled by shame, now covered with soot,
She becomes the victim from being the bait!

First Sight(Not Love)

Oh God! I know what's lovelier than the loveliest flower,
The moment she walked right in front of my eyes,
More fascinating than the surge of Power,
Ask any layman sound, Any layman Wise!
No, 'Tis not love, not even any care,
But every bone aches to know how she fares!

Hail, Holy Mother of all Art!

Oh! Holy Mother of all Art!
My only truly God, thou Art!
A ruby on the bejewelled crown,
Of the fruits of Civilisation,
Ages back, Thy seeds were sown,
Our fertile minds fill with elation!
Life before thou, trace to the unimaginable,
Ward off those times as of the unspeakables,
Among the fewer joys of the Modern World,
Thou rest, Still afloat and no wonder!
With even all the spite unfurled,
And I, Indignant, I do ponder,
Ignorance is Bliss, They say, But,
This, Chokes me to the gut,
I'm to hail thou in words,
But the cliches and thou thyself fail me now!
Thou art flying high, amid the Whitest Birds,
I look, I smile, I hail, I bow!

The Butterfly

With a leap off the leaf,
My heart skips a beat,
A million colours woven into,
This minuscule treat!

Frivolous with the trademark flight,
It dances in the sky,
And I wait sly like a fox,
With a gleam in my eye!

Waiting on the sly,
I can't help but adore,
Nature's palette on its wings,
I can't help wanting even more!

On my ears sounds I cannot hear,
Of pain and of captivity,
As my fingers clasped on the wings,
An epitome of nature's subtlety!

For years and years,
A once frivolous monarch lay,
In between papers,
Now faded and unable to play!

As I sleep, sometimes I do see,
The woven colours of glee,
I twist and turn but I can't go back,
Nor from these memories can I flee!

I just wish I'd left it, Watched for an hour more,
At its frivolous best,
The colours would have given me hope,
Like they do to the rest!

The Citizen

Clasps of lightning uproot the trees,
As a wicked storm replaces the breeze,
A thousand lives a second they seize,
And in the eye of the storm, an innocent man!

He with his troubles all left behind,
To his kin and his duties he did bind,
And Alas! What he did finally find,
He was the scape-goat, of a con-master plan!

Clangs of metal on metal does sound,
The last of his kin were never found,
For a man who to all his duties was bound,
He was bound to die, so short, his lifespan!

At the corner of my eye, a tear,
What all did the poor man bear,
Through the nation a longish sear,
And me and my heart, Salute the brave man..........

Last Laugh(Holy Wars)----> The first two lines are from Megadeth's Holy Wars.....Punishment Due, written by Dave Mustaine/Megadeth.

Brother will kill brother, Spilling blood across the land,
Killing for religion, Something I don't understand!

While a brethren writhes in pain, the bystanders they Laugh,
And then the bystanders writhe, and the tortured get their Laugh!

And then I do Laugh, at the Laughable spectacle,
And the elders they frown, at their Wisdom's pinnacle!

Buried alive their souls, They call themselves whole,
and I Laugh again, as on broken glass they roll!

In my mind a cleaner Land, it's just a dream I find,
That's all it'll ever be, a Heaven in my mind.........

She'll come! ( She already did, My Niece!)

Like the sun after a rainy night,
Would rise above a winged angel,
Thro' the thickets a beam of light,
A fat vein on a hypodermic needle,
Like the scent of rained upon soil,
Like the sweet sweat of toil,
A glimmer of hope after a fall,
Anticipation of walk after the crawl,
Like a whiff of a freshly mowed lawn,
With high spirits and subtle emotions,
SHE'LL COME!

The Pedigree......

Mere fragments of earth than next of kin,
Vagrants of the wily valley of sin,
Solace in death's breasts they find,
Traitors with both eyes gone blind,
Cowards in frilly cowboy suits,
Weeds around humanitarian roots,
The offsprings of a ghastly libido,
Inbreeding of repugnance without much ado,
Well fed on the devil's bosom,
Plague and Malice, they do blossom.

Once upon a time an ambitious king,
Misery and death was all he'd bring,
Smitten by possesions way too earthly,
The blade of his slew millions quietly,
A gilded sword with a crimson hilt,
Tears of bereavement was all it spilt,
And guilt came, it did come on time,
To fill his head with his blasphemous crimes,
And then from him flew the whitest dove,
The lesson was learnt, the tyrant learned to love!

Mouldy Souls and Mouldier Deeds,
Like an unbred mongrel breeds,
And again the gilded sword with a crimson hilt,
Grazes, and the twigs they wilt,
Reminiscent of the deadly twins,
Enough is the thought to make one wince,
Tho' with the earth gyrates the wheel of time,
None will erase the ghastly crime,
But above the oppresser, rose the oppressed,
Just Desserts! And our mind rested!

Powerless except the power of morals,
Waitin' for the moment to get etched in murals,
A gamut and myriad of twisted Coitus,
and its frenzy wrath sets upon us,
Cradling the inner child of fear,
The clock ticks and our time draws near,
Gloom Pain and Grief pervaded the air,
As a billion pair of eyes longed for an heir,
A tide of hope rises and We all cry,
Kneel down and Pray, hands held to the Sky........

Good Mornin'!

Oh! With what glory the sun dost shine,
Ochre-tinted rays on my mornin' face,
All prayers to Him, the pleasure's mine,
The warmth of love, the feel of lace!

Soaked with dew are my feet,
Wafts the fragrance and what bliss!
Ah! This feelin' nothin' can beat,
Jus' her touch's all I miss!

Perseverance

'My heart's ablaze', the kid he says,
and he begins the race, in the horizon, the Impossible,
His muscles tighten, his spirits brighten,
but inside still broken, he affirms it's plausible.

Subdued by pain, he tries in vain,
but until he's slain, he'll flap hard his wings,
He may die tryin', but he ain't cryin',
he still keeps flyin', and see what his fortune brings!

It was his fate, that all his hate,
became his own bait, and into the dark sea, he went,
No doubt he was brave, he took it to his grave,
And my heart does crave, jus' wish he wasn't that bent......

Alternative to the last stanza:

Ah! Look what his fate, did to all the hate,
he stood at heaven's gate, up above the clouds he went,
He was so brave, a thousand lives he did save,
A million hearts they crave, they swear he was God-sent!

Console and Conquer......

Cryin' over the echo of a swansong,
Still ringin' bells deep down inside,
Eyes are numb, It has been so long,
I'm weathered n distraught on the flipside.

Memories of times which seem so far,
The days I miss like none today,
I feel so low, I feel so sour,
Missin' that smile which made my day.

Every single day has atleast a dog,
Is the way we console ourselves,
And till our Satan's day we slog,
Only to be ambushed n taken down ourselves........

The Tribe

Tumultuous turmoil through the tribe,
A speck of light in the grey, gloomy sky,
An airborne foreigner strengthens the vibe,
They know, the Greyer men they sigh!

Till the time of the great king,
No trouble no pain did ever spring,
Now the once-strong men they abide,
Long gone the chatter of their child's chides.

Sigh and lie, then cry and die,
The pattern of Life in sturdy moulds,
The harder they toil, the harder they try,
They'll still be Wisps of smoke above the clouds.

The Unforgiven.......

The raging sun on the baked skin,
The little beasts with throats parched,
Far away a nightingale sings,
Seems just for those souls wretched.

On the top the cruel master,
All with poise and noise and laughter,
Urges the tired man to walk faster,
And the Unforgiven collapses.

Septic wounds and singeing bruises,
Caked dry with sand and blood,
Wounded souls with none the vices,
Lying asleep in the mud.......

Vidarbha......

Wilted plants in the cracked ground,
With showers refusing to come around,
A countless lives gone without a sound,
Tears and blood wet the barren ground.

Under the tin-roof the heaving breasts,
Crying over the children's wrecks,
Hitting the stolid earth with tightened fists,
As the virgins they slash their wrists.

Warring life itself for the daily bread,
It's harder done than earlier said,
And the lines on the palm the astrologer read,
Long erased in the wretched graves......