Again I plead not to rescue me,
For much else needs your rescue...
The innocenceof word, passed on by masters,
The warmth and nurture of their abode.
The word, mark!, its is more a weapon now.
Destruction and chaos is sought out through it.
Everything is its subject but truth..
Alas! Only truth is not let through a word...
Truth resides in the unspoken, unformed,
In a sad smile, in the word unarmed.
Why do yiu seek other weapons, oh wretch!
When you have already, the world, wrecked.
If you seek solace in destruction, so shall it be.
For it is a vicious cycle you have sought out, you see.
How can you amock, blindfolded, in search of peace,
When you go asking for the very misery in lease...
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Glimpse II
What I want to say is, Never give it away..
However deep the thorns prick,
Let not your vision stray.
Don't give your pain away, don't let yourself sway...
My words are nectar to some, poison to some.
So let your heart guide you with freedom.
Many have crossed your paths and you hear from them,
Not all speak why they stopped and what the journey demanded of them.
I gave blood, I gave tears and everything precious,
At the altar of my conscience I beheld,
the supreme goal that had me leave what was at stake,
only to cherish my path's twists, turns and give what it takes.
Though my destination is nowhere near,
Still intriguing and a bit unclear.
I look back to you , my fellow traveller,
To lend you what I couldn't gather,
The pearls of wisdom of my journey,
I now bestow with love to thee...
However deep the thorns prick,
Let not your vision stray.
Don't give your pain away, don't let yourself sway...
My words are nectar to some, poison to some.
So let your heart guide you with freedom.
Many have crossed your paths and you hear from them,
Not all speak why they stopped and what the journey demanded of them.
I gave blood, I gave tears and everything precious,
At the altar of my conscience I beheld,
the supreme goal that had me leave what was at stake,
only to cherish my path's twists, turns and give what it takes.
Though my destination is nowhere near,
Still intriguing and a bit unclear.
I look back to you , my fellow traveller,
To lend you what I couldn't gather,
The pearls of wisdom of my journey,
I now bestow with love to thee...
Monday, May 17, 2010
A DIALOGUE
PRELUDE:
I SAW A DREAM, EVRYONE DOES.
Amongst the realms of my mind’s fantastic creations, yesterday, a dream showed me a possibility, a beacon of innocence and novelty in the sea of gloom…
A dream of purity I saw, and it reflected the ideas I carried unspoken. I saw myself as a child, a traveler wonderstruck at the temple of human apathy…
I will tell you what I saw, but do not judge it with reason…
I seldom reveal my secrets but today I’m being pushed by conscience…
I saw a dome, not of art, not of glass, not of any specific beauty, but of steel…
Then I saw eagles in flight in an astonishing array of military precision.
Before I knew, they alighted on the dome, each in a solemn position as if in conference.
Then they struck the metal twice in unison with their razor- beaks staring unblinkingly with their cold steel eyes…
They soared to the heavens and chanted their consensus which reverberated in the clouds…
I found myself in the company of an apparition whom I addressed as mother.
I asked her, “What do the eagles say to you?”
She said, “Child, they just cast a vote. The dome you saw was their parliament.”
“What were they voting for?” I asked her.
“They want to abolish terrorism”, she said.
“Ma, but, they can only kill a terrorist, how can they remove the terror in people’s minds? It needs to be weeded out.”
Ma said, “oh, you stubborn child, do not claim to have the power to understand such things at your silly age. Terrorism is a reflection of injustice”
I sat pondering at her words and the eagles’ votes not disturbed by the anguished look in Ma’s eyes.
Then I said, “Ma, I want to be a terrorist”. Ma’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “Why would you want that child?” Just think of what would happen if everyone was a terrorist” she said. I replied cheekily, “if everyone was a terrorist there wouldn’t be a target to terrorize. But don’t worry, I will be a terrorist with a change.”
“Thoughts are important to convince people of initiating change. I will not commit a deed of violence. The malady of injustice will be cured by the novel and powerful mind.”
“When justice prevails, revenge will fade. When pain is subdued, the ones who are hurt will see what a miraculous world they live in, a world that needs to be cherished by all.”
“The eagles have spoken to me; I am, but a mere messenger...”
I SAW A DREAM, EVRYONE DOES.
Amongst the realms of my mind’s fantastic creations, yesterday, a dream showed me a possibility, a beacon of innocence and novelty in the sea of gloom…
A dream of purity I saw, and it reflected the ideas I carried unspoken. I saw myself as a child, a traveler wonderstruck at the temple of human apathy…
I will tell you what I saw, but do not judge it with reason…
I seldom reveal my secrets but today I’m being pushed by conscience…
I saw a dome, not of art, not of glass, not of any specific beauty, but of steel…
Then I saw eagles in flight in an astonishing array of military precision.
Before I knew, they alighted on the dome, each in a solemn position as if in conference.
Then they struck the metal twice in unison with their razor- beaks staring unblinkingly with their cold steel eyes…
They soared to the heavens and chanted their consensus which reverberated in the clouds…
I found myself in the company of an apparition whom I addressed as mother.
I asked her, “What do the eagles say to you?”
She said, “Child, they just cast a vote. The dome you saw was their parliament.”
“What were they voting for?” I asked her.
“They want to abolish terrorism”, she said.
“Ma, but, they can only kill a terrorist, how can they remove the terror in people’s minds? It needs to be weeded out.”
Ma said, “oh, you stubborn child, do not claim to have the power to understand such things at your silly age. Terrorism is a reflection of injustice”
I sat pondering at her words and the eagles’ votes not disturbed by the anguished look in Ma’s eyes.
Then I said, “Ma, I want to be a terrorist”. Ma’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “Why would you want that child?” Just think of what would happen if everyone was a terrorist” she said. I replied cheekily, “if everyone was a terrorist there wouldn’t be a target to terrorize. But don’t worry, I will be a terrorist with a change.”
“Thoughts are important to convince people of initiating change. I will not commit a deed of violence. The malady of injustice will be cured by the novel and powerful mind.”
“When justice prevails, revenge will fade. When pain is subdued, the ones who are hurt will see what a miraculous world they live in, a world that needs to be cherished by all.”
“The eagles have spoken to me; I am, but a mere messenger...”
Friday, February 12, 2010
THIS IS IT
Sitting in the fading sun, thinking of you,
wondering what went wrong, where the winds blew.
where the road forked and where i went astray.
i would've still been at your side but you kept me away.
Blocking your thoughts, im trying to move on
but memories raining take me where i truly belong.
grey's the color that's haunting me these days,
Faded jeans and empty cups is what it pays.
What do you do when you turn into someone else?
Dreaming your old dreams, a trapped life in spells.
when a smile surprises you but tears you can sympathise with...
when all expectations die and joy becomes a myth.
Now I'm trying to fix the puzzle, looking for the broken pieces of my life.
Living with the tiniest ray of hope that someday you'll end this strife.
Knowing you as you are has been my greatest luck,
and if you don't return after this you should know that you're a schmuck...
wondering what went wrong, where the winds blew.
where the road forked and where i went astray.
i would've still been at your side but you kept me away.
Blocking your thoughts, im trying to move on
but memories raining take me where i truly belong.
grey's the color that's haunting me these days,
Faded jeans and empty cups is what it pays.
What do you do when you turn into someone else?
Dreaming your old dreams, a trapped life in spells.
when a smile surprises you but tears you can sympathise with...
when all expectations die and joy becomes a myth.
Now I'm trying to fix the puzzle, looking for the broken pieces of my life.
Living with the tiniest ray of hope that someday you'll end this strife.
Knowing you as you are has been my greatest luck,
and if you don't return after this you should know that you're a schmuck...
Monday, October 5, 2009
A TREE AND A CHILD
The questions erupting in a curious mind
Are always to be answered calmly…
Leaving them unanswered are a disaster in itself…
Incorrect answers will muddle their intellect
Fear should be weeded out from its origin
Before enhancing the rich soil of intelligence
The mind is irrigated with the qualities of generosity…
The seed of kindness is sown…
The sapling is dormant, still…
The sunshine of knowledge yet untouched
The magic of life touches the seed…
Instills in it the desire to grow…
The first shoot sprouts, breaking the barriers of
The oppressive hurdles of soil,
Receives the warm light of life,
Glimpses the vast-vast world for the first time…
It does not look back at his past,
But his roots are well connected to it…
The water of experience guides him
Through his turbulent path..
The branches reach out towards eternity
In search of the divine knowledge …
The labour brings forth the fruit
It ripens under the nurture of nature…
Alas! The fruit snatched upon by
The hungry scavengers,
The warmth and love plucked ruthlessly…
The work of a lifetime disgraced…
The tree grows on, impervious
To the act of violence
Offering the fruits and flowers of her strive
To the boundless greed of the world…
Implanting its seeds in the
Soothing soil of her home…
To continue the task of compassion…
Till the end of time…
Till centuries, the trees grow,
Untouched by the evil without
Silently bearing the burdens
Thrust upon it by others…
Enlightened is the one who,
Gathering wisdom from the trees,
Is inspired to correct his attitude
And transform his life like the noble trees…
Are always to be answered calmly…
Leaving them unanswered are a disaster in itself…
Incorrect answers will muddle their intellect
Fear should be weeded out from its origin
Before enhancing the rich soil of intelligence
The mind is irrigated with the qualities of generosity…
The seed of kindness is sown…
The sapling is dormant, still…
The sunshine of knowledge yet untouched
The magic of life touches the seed…
Instills in it the desire to grow…
The first shoot sprouts, breaking the barriers of
The oppressive hurdles of soil,
Receives the warm light of life,
Glimpses the vast-vast world for the first time…
It does not look back at his past,
But his roots are well connected to it…
The water of experience guides him
Through his turbulent path..
The branches reach out towards eternity
In search of the divine knowledge …
The labour brings forth the fruit
It ripens under the nurture of nature…
Alas! The fruit snatched upon by
The hungry scavengers,
The warmth and love plucked ruthlessly…
The work of a lifetime disgraced…
The tree grows on, impervious
To the act of violence
Offering the fruits and flowers of her strive
To the boundless greed of the world…
Implanting its seeds in the
Soothing soil of her home…
To continue the task of compassion…
Till the end of time…
Till centuries, the trees grow,
Untouched by the evil without
Silently bearing the burdens
Thrust upon it by others…
Enlightened is the one who,
Gathering wisdom from the trees,
Is inspired to correct his attitude
And transform his life like the noble trees…
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
The Mirror Image
The infinite seas with hidden pearls in its depths are the inspiration to her tears, which flow from the infinite past to eternity...
And every night as she prays for deliverance, in silence, extending gratefulness for the ability to cry...
To shed a few mortal tears before embracing the immortal pain..
This pain seems to go on and on, bringing along with a few simple moments of joy...
it surprises her that she is still capable of it...
There is not as such a sadness in her heart that she can place a finger upon
She believes she is lucky to have got what the rest can only dream about... and is not thankless for it...
But the heart is a hard thing to please... always greedy for attention.. affection...
only ink and paper are the leaders of her life... it is through them she lives and her worst fear is that eventually they will discard her as a snake sheds its skin...
she is the strong and unsurpassable fortress as seen from outside...
on the inside a brittle glass heart exists...
Swinging from one path to the other... getting hurt as much as it can bear and then smashing into a million pieces.. she collects these pieces with tenderness befitting a sorceress pitying her victim...
With each fall She gains an experience, locks it up safely and draws courage from it...
only one person has entered these fortressed walls... somebody that is so similar to her yet essentially different... someone, whose actions she can almost predict...
but is, at times, blown away by his incredible responses ...
They could have been complements... Mirror images of each other...
She can feel that he is as brave as she is afraid...
He is as quiet as she is boisterous in front of him...
she, who rarely initiates a conversation is afraid that he might say something of relevance or make a suggestion that may destroy the purity of that moment...
unknown to her a switch is flicked inside her and she cannot stay calm...
She believes that in a way he knows that there is something unusual about their bond...
At times his carelessness strikes her ... At times he is hurt by her conscious efforts...
They are struck by the fragility of their bond... They are speechless for a moment..He turns away...
She chides herself for her heart's naive imagination.. relives their exchange... locks it up in the caverns if memory...
I wonder what their bond was... I guess I'll never find out... I guess I'll never want to...
And every night as she prays for deliverance, in silence, extending gratefulness for the ability to cry...
To shed a few mortal tears before embracing the immortal pain..
This pain seems to go on and on, bringing along with a few simple moments of joy...
it surprises her that she is still capable of it...
There is not as such a sadness in her heart that she can place a finger upon
She believes she is lucky to have got what the rest can only dream about... and is not thankless for it...
But the heart is a hard thing to please... always greedy for attention.. affection...
only ink and paper are the leaders of her life... it is through them she lives and her worst fear is that eventually they will discard her as a snake sheds its skin...
she is the strong and unsurpassable fortress as seen from outside...
on the inside a brittle glass heart exists...
Swinging from one path to the other... getting hurt as much as it can bear and then smashing into a million pieces.. she collects these pieces with tenderness befitting a sorceress pitying her victim...
With each fall She gains an experience, locks it up safely and draws courage from it...
only one person has entered these fortressed walls... somebody that is so similar to her yet essentially different... someone, whose actions she can almost predict...
but is, at times, blown away by his incredible responses ...
They could have been complements... Mirror images of each other...
She can feel that he is as brave as she is afraid...
He is as quiet as she is boisterous in front of him...
she, who rarely initiates a conversation is afraid that he might say something of relevance or make a suggestion that may destroy the purity of that moment...
unknown to her a switch is flicked inside her and she cannot stay calm...
She believes that in a way he knows that there is something unusual about their bond...
At times his carelessness strikes her ... At times he is hurt by her conscious efforts...
They are struck by the fragility of their bond... They are speechless for a moment..He turns away...
She chides herself for her heart's naive imagination.. relives their exchange... locks it up in the caverns if memory...
I wonder what their bond was... I guess I'll never find out... I guess I'll never want to...
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Journey
Birth is destiny's choice. I, a mere instrument.
But i chose to be born in struggling times.
Towards eternity my journey is...
But my goal is fixed...
On the road of labour, we witness the plays of life,
Learning from the falls, rising from the ashes.
On this road my siblings lament.
Along with me, they are breaking upon the shackles.
Shackles of oppression that we are unable to define,
And dare not judge...
Till yesterday you ruled...
Through fear does courage spring forth.
Till yesterday, fear was revered, secretly,
For breaking through the strongest characters known,
For following history and sometimes leading...
For shifting through the rulers and the ruled alternatively...
Fear was the witness and in turn it is being witnessed now...
Who rules today? And who submits?
Today, of all days, latent power has been unveiled
In all its majesty and horrific splendour...
Everyone is discontent, unrest seeps through your fortress walls...
Walls that are as porous as the bread that is sought by the multitude...
Now we see the chafing skin beneath our shackled limbs,
Which we have been feeling through ages...
And now we reclaim our weapons
With which we reaped the crops that fattened you...
When our children starved...
We dare now, we demand,
We strip our fear of the courtsy and lay it bare
That is what gives us courage...
These long chains of depressed humans exhibiting your prowess till yesterday
Are today treading on desert sands, cutting through forests, crossing oceans...
Reaching out to our brothers and sisters...
Today, we have realised our goal,
We have reborn from the depths of despair...
We have repossessed our right to live...
For it is we who truly live,
You, only exist...
But i chose to be born in struggling times.
Towards eternity my journey is...
But my goal is fixed...
On the road of labour, we witness the plays of life,
Learning from the falls, rising from the ashes.
On this road my siblings lament.
Along with me, they are breaking upon the shackles.
Shackles of oppression that we are unable to define,
And dare not judge...
Till yesterday you ruled...
Through fear does courage spring forth.
Till yesterday, fear was revered, secretly,
For breaking through the strongest characters known,
For following history and sometimes leading...
For shifting through the rulers and the ruled alternatively...
Fear was the witness and in turn it is being witnessed now...
Who rules today? And who submits?
Today, of all days, latent power has been unveiled
In all its majesty and horrific splendour...
Everyone is discontent, unrest seeps through your fortress walls...
Walls that are as porous as the bread that is sought by the multitude...
Now we see the chafing skin beneath our shackled limbs,
Which we have been feeling through ages...
And now we reclaim our weapons
With which we reaped the crops that fattened you...
When our children starved...
We dare now, we demand,
We strip our fear of the courtsy and lay it bare
That is what gives us courage...
These long chains of depressed humans exhibiting your prowess till yesterday
Are today treading on desert sands, cutting through forests, crossing oceans...
Reaching out to our brothers and sisters...
Today, we have realised our goal,
We have reborn from the depths of despair...
We have repossessed our right to live...
For it is we who truly live,
You, only exist...
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