THE SMELL

The noxious smell out of the window
makes me subconscious,
When I walk forward to take some steps-
Something stops me utterly vicious.

This smell comes from every space.
This all-pervasive challenges us,
laughs at us, at our defencelessness-
Creeps into the steel-body to steal all gladness.

It is a smell of self-love,
Making us all crippled
to do something for others-
We all are but dummies of ourselves, we actually don’t differ.

The world drowned in it, splashing
The people playing the blame-game,
Seems whatever steps we take-
It will more or less remain all the same.

HEADS

Remove the red-spots,
Negate the negative-nods
Invite thinking heads-
To clean the filthy lots.

Remove those who make abnormal normal,
Negate those who practice the above formal
Invite thinking heads-
To clean the maximum that was minimal.

Remove the weeds of society,
Negate those who create anxiety
Invite thinking heads-
To clean the debris, created despite the presence of the Almighty!

Remove thinking heads that only think,
Negate those who pose they shrink.
Come-on working heads, do your bit
Lest this squealing world will take no time to split!

CURSE

When green age made me to glean

When I believed the world,

As I have seen

The slap of time dragged me;

and hence teaches me to be mean.

To be honest is a great curse

that strips off the belongings,

Where are those values taught,

All is pretention just to be closed in purse.

I am not the one I was,

Everybody knows this one’s cause.

This double-game lies inside everyone-

This loss is nothing to grieve, but fun.

People aching in making me what I’m not,

This soul unable to adjust with what I’ve got

The fatal-strife has altered me to the marrow:

My own space squeezed and bowed down to the deadly-lot!

WILL NEVER FLY

Those wrinkled stages,

Those withered slots

Those plated memories:

Those deliberately unfenced plots.

Those eyes, the shine

as if I am seeing a mime.

The misunderstood faces,

The unstoppable analysing sense’s graces.

Those unwanted hours,

Those burdened days

Those philosophical turns,

Those matured plays.

Those green-phases,

Ready to be mean in the mean

Those ideas flat and lean,

Those flows, I never desired to be seen.

Those drilling moments of sigh,

Gone and spent to come back

Those fake assurances:

Ready to subsist and will never fly.

WIND OF THOUGHTS

The ride of stepping stones
The pearls on the sea-shore,
The jeopardy of topsy life
The aching desire to get more than more.


The dusty wind of thoughts
The black and soft threads,
The to and fro motion of substance
Knowing not the gravity of persistence.

The ranging colors of cloud
The vast speed of instinctive struggle,
The rise of parallel fighting forums
Yes! Life is but a muddle.

The agony of the gone time
The memory of the lost,
The hideous astray motion
The volume of shady solutions.

Reason of being aloof, alone
The damn sight of the world,
The varying pace of momentary change
The soul wants to be lulled.

LOST

Eyes fixed on you,
The mere glance of you
The perceived still motion
The mere gap of you.

Remembered and ached voice,
The mere vision slowed
The watched-over glance
Remained absorbed and bowled.

Submerged fast-forward life,
Underwent a manque rise
The mere sight renewed
And returned at life's price.

It is how we are, ourselves,
Held together and sound
Here is nothing subdued
The mere voice is our bound.

THE COMMUNION

Under the beams of light,
Oh ! I told you to bite me tight.
It was a that communion,
With the One who took my flight.

Me on the banks of wishes,
Free from sundry blemishes.
It was that communion,
Floating weightless in the water of fishes.

How it goes and Yes ends like this...
Something like a gripped miss.
It was a communion,
That wasn't mine but His bliss.

Left this venomous stride,me in air,
A space there ,we all will share.
It is a communion,
Me in full flair, the presence with rarest rare.