poetry
Poem: Time To Come
I have been in these woods for years now
as I have watched you graze and grow.
Thousand nights, I have spent
creating this spear so vicious…
It’s potency higher than death!
No, I will not to kill and prey you
I will to make you crawl towards me, so I can smell and embrace you
Yes. I have watched you mate and grow,
but that doesn’t concerns me at all
for…in front of my desires,
those events are too small!
You will come to me…by your own will
and lay down in front of me as I feel better than God!
Your smell intoxicates me,
My music is intoxicating you
It’s time to crawl to me now
this is where you belong
My presence is metamorphosing you!
(Edited)
From my book Paranoia.
Poem: Stareway to Heaven
A drizzle,
Under a metallic roof.
Surrounded by,
leaves dancing to an unadulterated tune
Real ones!
Cool breeze…literally
Not contaminated by globules of global fetish
bulbs…too far away.
What else does one need?
While you’re there
Just while you stare
you are not,
A desiring clockwork.
From my book Paranoia
Poem: Thus Spake Spit
A small light in these dark caves,
for now enough to save from extinction.
Slowly…igniting and turning into a dragon’s breath
I come from there,
the thought of where itself will frighten you of thinking
forever.
The fires will burn and burn…
drift and drift…
on it’s way
burning the heavens itself –
The same heavens
you lust for,
and kneel down or bend over for!
See, you are constructed with codes of geometric perfection
I have been spit due to lack of inclination
if you are an atheist
then I am God
if you contempt on barks
then I am a Dog.
You ascended into the mountains
I descended into the caves,
for you heavens are dearer
for me darkness is nearer.
Soon…when your mountains and heavens have burned
and turned
into thick dark clouds overhead
then…
when you finally see what I see
and shiver at the sight of raw darkness
I Will be your God
and show you that light
and watch as you learn to levitate and rise beyond
and smile at death forever
bless you!
(Edited)
From my book Paranoia
Poem: Sky and Clouds
It was a sunny morning
and so you planned to bask all day
when a lusty cloud came
from who knows where
and made it dark:
Now you shiver in pain.
You write these words
They go talk with gods
The gods get it
and make it sunny again!
Though the cloud seemed gone
You see it in the horizon
The damage has been done!
You have to be a Rshi:
Compose mantras and chant them full time.
And you have to plough your field
Chant and plough
Chant and plough.
You can see some clouds out there
But the sky is clean up here
You can’t un-see the clouds now
Chant and plough
Chant and plough.
It is night
but it’s too bright.
You want that cloud now
So you write different words
They go talk with same gods
The gods get it
and bring the cloud back again!
and the next morning…
you repeat it again.
The gods are greedy
The gods are crazy
They want sweeter words
They want them all the time
They want to play
They play with you all the time
But you don’t mind
Because you need a clear sky in the day
and some clouds in the night.
You are greedy
You are crazy.
You go through all this
to keep them near
To eventually reach beyond
them and there.
Poem: Me and Them
It’s evening and you sit here with your laptop in your room
while the world rushes home closing their desktops at work.
You’ve always been this way. You realize.
You and the world have always been this way.
When you were a kid,
while they learnt real politics outside with their imaginary guns
You learnt imagination inside because you couldn’t understand the politics of the world!
When you grew up,
while they played kings and slaves in streets, classrooms and playgrounds
You played god and designed and destroyed sportsgrounds and movie-sets inside your head.
But you were not as strong or stylish as you present yourself here
You were weak, bleak and you were scared of their breath
Not because they spat fire. But because they stank!
But you couldn’t ignore them because your horizon was still a virgin
And so you sat with them and even tried to impress them!
Even their bad breath you thought was a norm
So you stopped brushing too…
You were not at all as strong or stylish as you present yourself here.
It’s always been this way.
And then when you reached an age where boys made girls cry
You yourself cried in a classroom.
And then you were stared-at, kicked, teased, yelled-at:
By insecure blokes who saw nothing when they looked at themselves in the mirror.
You didn’t understand then that their expression towards you
was their expression towards themselves
You couldn’t understand that because you didn’t play with them outside.
And now they look at their watches at work, nervously waiting for the time they get to go back home
while you get to sit here calmly in your room writing magical words like these that turns them into whatever pleases your mood.
You’ve always been this way the world and you
First, the world throws shit at you and then you throw the world into shit.
And now the world plays king-king down there at Troy
While you play god-god up here at Mount Olympus!
Poem: I am You
They walk, they talk, they strife
Their own glory is their drive
They bounce about the earth shitting the next meal
Like gnats around my table sniffing the leftover deal
They’ve got no plan they merely want to survive
That’s in fact their only drive!
I walk, I talk, I strife
My own glory is my drive
I bounce about the earth observing the deal
Like gnats I see around my leftover meal
I’ve got a plan and that’s to thrive
I am one of them
and that’s all I can drive!
Poem: Tiger and a Mouse
He has two forms:
Inner and Outer
Alone and with other.
While alone, he is vicious
Like a hungry tiger!
Someone comes and he transforms
Into a mouse!
Poem: Beer and Poetry
You drink beer
and while it lasts:
The whole world seems manageable
It’s same with poetry
You write or read one
and while it lasts:
The whole world seems perceivable
and manageable!
When you mix both:
well,
the whole world gets malleable!!!
What else need I say?
What else need you do?
Drink and poem.
Poem: What Is Poetry?
You grab a creature with an ability to word
and place it in a planet far-far off.
The first thing it will do
to make sense of its reality beautiful and true:
Is Poetry
and the last thing too!
Poem: Where’s Your Hand?
Sound of the electric woodsaw fills the southern air
as cars, buses and motorbikes rule the street out there.
To rhyme and be poetic – why do I care?
Lick your self fabricated spicy desire
and seek a cure for the tongue on fire!
God had a fall, her arm dropped down below
Man, being man used it to wipe his rear hole.
Now I am transcending, now I am willing
To design a mask to withstand the stink
and a thing to check the pulse of those machines,
I am using this quintessential style of thinking!
