How old is time?
I asked the wandering sky
I asked the lapses of ancestral silence
They all retreated back into the future timely
Leafing through the piles of dust and ashes
Leafing through the ruins of moments
Counting in membranes the number of flesh and blood
The rains shed tears in giggling dorplets
In the number of times in orgasmic pleasures
The sphinx has risen in light years expiring in eternity
Since the cosmic birth of heredity reign
Weilding its diadem as the sundial stops ticking
The ends of hourly space in meteoric rise
And the fall of the crowing sparrow from the Noa's Arc
At the very resounding of the awakening dawn.

The patriach Methuselah has left his footprint
Swimming in the cosmic soup at that very hourly time
Leaning back against my ageing lifeliner ferrying me
Down the memory lane of the lapsing moments of time
Across the blue mists I again asked the fellowtravelers
To draw a blank verse in time's horoscope at length
The nine sixtynine years' old patriarch mumbled
And fumbled in fuzzy logic of smiling grace
And I returned to my white ship waiting for me
To carry me beyond the lengthening space
Of ageold time having no ends to hide in any cul-de-sac.

Comment! (0) | Recommend! | Categories: Poetry [t]

Like old fossils
Old days do die back and forth
Yelllow fevers swaying
Hard on the rocks of caw-cawing violence
In featherless space of time
Way up the shades of human blues
Something that leaves shadows
In pre-historical violins of war and greed
Alas! The planet of the apes invisible
In bouncing mobs of long standing darkness

Alas! The moons are split asunder
Stillborn yet in new sands of the pied sky
Hey, baby, hold your candles
To burn the ashes in years of days and nights
Let the darkness be all over again
Across the new leaves of withering winter
Yes, there will be light over your face
There will be light, baby, there will be light
Of peace to see you in your crying eyes

Will there be light , baby
Will there be light in years of days and nights?

Comment! (0) | Recommend! | Categories: Poetry [t]

(This is a true story. I see her everyday coming in rickshaw in the evening. She waits in railway platform for her customers. And at night he returns back to her dilapidated shanty a few kilometres away. She has a little daughter but has none and nothing.)

Sabina her name
Her man had written off her fortune
Leaving his last will for her to swallow her own days in nights
All alone wandering her long nights to sell her wares
Her only wares of bulging flesh and fading beauty to longing eyes
And sweating bloods in shadows of big men in dark disguise
Nobody knows whether her own man is dead or alive
In this world of filthy riches and sacred sermons
But this unkind world of hers has its way of impeaching her
Of her body of dignity falling flat over the lost sky in shame
And in despair her hungry body taking refuge in the arms of her big men.

Who sells her a morsel of rice?
Who sells sagging her breasts for her only daughter?
Her days are always in quest of nights for her big men
They all come hungry of slaughters' gaze
Of cardinal lusts and ordinal pleasure of wolves' prey
An easy prey as always it is in the whorehouse of freedom
She frees herself so dearly, unrepent and unsmattering
As if the nights are her long day closing its wings
Falling head over heel in eagles' love
Of unrequited sinner more sinned than the God's gospels
She cares not knowing the pristine flesh putrefying
And blood blowing cold over the hill of her aging ages.

She sells herself her only freedom
She sells her one and only right to die anytime
She sells her all and everything not to shy anymore
She sells her body only aging to die
For her only love to feed her breast in a lullaby
As she kisses her smiling crying herself on the sly.

And for her life goes on and on
In the whorehouse of freedom for an eternity
And the days diminishing in nights of darkness at noon
As she lives as long as her bulging flesh spells the slaughter's gaze
And her nights pay her a bowl of frothing rice
To feed her breast to her only love to pray for none in her lullaby.

Comment! (0) | Recommend! | Categories: Poetry [t]

Undulating
Rays of moments
Seeing off the darkness
In dire spaces
Of timely gotten euphoria

There in the facia
Of densely jungled woods
The grasshopper leaping in sighing flight
Coyly up and down the horrors
Of a flirty little water mermaid's twilight

Time catches fire dyeingly from nowhere
Flying in lapses of fleeting spaces
The lonely woods talking to the trees
To fall lazily into places of juggler's lair
Not so far from the mind's indexing eyes

Flurry of rays of moments decrying
All over the gamely prostrated terra firma
Severing the knotty ties of holy pontification
In severe jerks of demented fornication
And as if there the endgame nears its ends.

Comment! (0) | Recommend! | Categories: Poetry [t]

With a drop of forlorn tears
The sun melts into the abiding darkness
An eluding voice voice sings lullaby
Yet you are still withdrawn into your days and nights
As if the failing light devouring you in slow agony
As if the nostalgiac memory has left you in the lurch
While the lengthening forest grips your shadow
In a long quest of eternity you whisper the last pray
You alone carry forward the messages of all of brotherhood
Nothing stops you from joining the setting sun
As you alight from the chariot from the blessed land
You remain genial all along the road of brotherhood
To reverence and glory you only galore in dignity.

Come to the blessed land of humanity
Come to the land of equality and prosperity
The spirit will never fail you in your long voyage
Rise from the ashes of forgotten memories
Rise into the heart of the sizzling sun
Hold aloft the statute of liberty for all
Hold aloft the sunshins across the whole sky
It is Christ's joy, it is Christ's cry
You only fight in a lone voice
You only adore the final consequence
You will be the lone sun over the valley of dignity.

Comment! (0) | Recommend! | Categories: Poetry [t]

Someday
It is nothing
In a sub-zero point
Baring its breath
Like a grizzly bear
In sweltering summer
Someday it is all
For nothing
For a gruelling love
Fizzling out
In crystalline truth
Committing nothing
To the surreal surprise

The truth
Elusive as the firefly
Metamorphosing
Into a shadow
Of a crusader
Like the grasshopper
In a daze
Of all suspenses

A beacon of light
Proliferating
On the precipice
Of the Bastille castle
In prolific chaos
Of suspended freedom
As if to carry home
The cruelty
Of truths and lies
In diurnal reality
Chopping and changing
Into something
Never
To be smiling
Upon nothing
Short of a straighter face

Someday it is all chaos
Truths belittling truths
Of all jejune lies
To carry home
The cruelty
Of dueling love
Something for nothing
Someday
It is all like
What happens
To be wordless
Existence
Metamorphosing
Everything
Into nothing
And nothingness

Someday
It is like saying
Nothing
And no one seems
To be the truth
Of anything
In a metamorphosis
Of truths into lies.

Comment! (0) | Recommend! | Categories: Poetry [t]