Words of the World

Words of the World

Why do you hide your thoughts
behind the veil of your state-of-the-art vocabulary?
You talk about society and secularism from the knowledge you gained in the library.

Come down here,
Amidst the men of this earth, this country, state, district, village,
Set your feet amongst these men of the world;

See how they see and what they see
The torture, deaths, debts, and rapes,
Feel the burden of falling economy on their tired and old heads,
Walk with them on the drought-stricken lands and
Share with them a-day-old rotten bread.

And when you have known how they live,
When you are aware of the truth, the society, the people
Then talk of them, write, and preach
Your ideas in their language, in their words;

And only then will your words ever have meaning,

Else they will just be passionate masterpieces, meaningless verses
About bells, ghosts, and birds;

Afterall what story is a story, or a prose, or a poem
That is full of words, but empty of yourself,
unclear to the people of the world.

People to Talk to

I am looking for people,
To talk to,
I don’t step out every other weekend
But that does not mean I am an introvert,
Don’t assume so that I cannot,
But I fail to find people I would want to go out with.
People whom I could talk to in rhymes,
People who have a stable heart and an open mind,
People who are not chained to the bells
Not scared of their chimes.
I’m searching for people
Who are ambitious but not blind,
Who are brave at heart and though they believe in fear
Are ready to give up everything,
even themselves for their dreams,
I want to meet those dreamers, the mad hatter’s, and the insane jokers.
People who want to grasp every star in the sky,
But don’t mind if they don’t.
I am looking for people
With capability to probe a million bizarre ideas,
Yet free from influence except their own,
People who intend to grow forever
And yet never outgrow
For people who are more than what they show.

18 Martyrs

18 Martyrs

18 men 3 days back died
And they died not for themselves
But for each one amongst the billions of us
Fighting our battle for paradise,
Without one excuse, they gave their lives,
As they been doing so since long
While we sit here
In our comfy abodes
And watch their sacrifice on TV Munching chips and sipping tea,
And then
And then we just forget,
And it’s alright,
We are humans
But not this time,
Because we are humans.
Let’s not those 18 lives,
Pass by us in a daze,
Stop for moment, close your eyes
And try to feel their rage,
Who have lost more than soldiers,
They have lost husbands, and brothers, and sons
Just think about them,
Just do it for once,
And try to feel their sorrow,
Acknowledge their lives,
Respect their deaths.
For they could have done anything else,
Like all of us do,
But they chose to do what they did,
And they did for me and you.

At a Glance

Get out of yourself,

Open the window, look outside

see the terror spreading on every side

Walk on the street, look around

grim, gossip, and gluttony,

rage, pride, and mutiny,

whole humanity hell-bound.

Glance at the world,

thirst and hunger in children’s eyes

people deluded by politicians’ lies,

A world: weak and terrified,

Screeching and burning in religious wars,

learned men searching life on Mars,

A fake mosaic glorified.

 

 

Stop making up

Try and peek behind the fa├žade,

Life neck deep in fog.

Start living up

Go be a fox or be a pig,

But never ever be a dog.

 

 

 

 

 

A cold stream of consciousness

I don’t know what is happening to me

I am undergoing a transformation

only that I have no idea about it’s result

A cluelessness keeps whirling in my head

as my thoughts oscillate between myself and the world

A confusion whether to bother about myself

or the worries of the world

Whether to express my self

Or speak up for the world

And it further becomes difficult

when you have no one to listen

Also, the people who are present

and claim to listen

barely understand anything

Words have different meaning to different people

life has different meaning to different people

I am scared to speak

because people who claim to listen misinterpret

And suppose a single person

gets the idea right

and then hopes or expects more from me

what will I do then

If I dragged my neighbour out of his bed

at this midnight hour

asked him to solve my dilemma

he would probably kill me

But is bothering about the society a crime

Is speaking up for the people

the injustice done to them weird

Old fashioned some might say

Should we squeeze ourselves

into our lives and just care about it

But if you stand for a cause

and people begin to follow

they would certainly have expectation

But how would you know

what they expect

Is it the same thing that they want too

or do they want you to do something for their ambitions

They are here now walking behind you

But will find them in the hollow

In chains we are all bound

I see the devil dancing around

And the angels have nowhere to escape to

All the temple doors closed down

people finding solace in poison insanity and death

Summer rainy winter all seasons cold

Such cursed land where widows are sold

Riots all around sponsored and then protested

Lies diffused in the air truth resisted

Life now seems a terrible affliction

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My conscience’s consciousness

Where are we going?

To where? are we all bound.

Don’t be silent now,

answer me!

Are we on the right track

or should we turn around.

My toes are on the edge,

Should I step away ?

or take a leap down.

Oh! Please do not ask me

To bend my knees and pray,

for, in the vicious human schemes

Even the lord has no play.

I have lit my world up,

And I smell blood in the air,

Thou hast created myriad beasts

But to me, none can compare.

As they merely are mindless beasts

who kill to survive,

Made and meant to be wild,

While I am sly and ruthless murderer,

I kill, but to thrive .

Where are we going?

To where are we bound?

To heaven!

Or is the destination underground.

 

 

Oneway trip

He is so within
That he is without,
His world a floating mirage.
His head:
A salty pond of doubts.
His days, coloured by dreams,
His nights, conquered by screams,
He is isolated in the crowd.
Dead, he walks amidst living,
His skin: his soul’s shroud.
He is high,
And is travelling higher on the highway,
To a place that knows no pain,
And the souls residing there,
Are all ancient, and insane.
He has been on many trips,
This one, the final voyage,
That promises to set him free,
And gift him his salvation.