My eyes hurt, and they hurt me
They say that they don’t want me to see
They don’t want me to read, or write

They say, shut me up, there is too much deceit, too much lie
My eyes, my eyes, they burn on the inside

They say there is too much pain in the world
My eyes hurt me
They say that they don’t want me to see

My eyes, my eyes, they burn on the inside
They say there is too much pain in the world

And they cannot see any more cries,
My eyes, they ask me to shut them up
They cannot face anymore disguise

My eyes, my eyes, my eyes

They hurt and cry
They urge me to shut them up

They tell me that the end is nigh.



Thoughts and robots
That’s all I’m left with
And it doesn’t feel like life,
Life is where there is a drunk and a whore,
It is where dust is kissing the streets,
And the skin of that little girl
Who sits and has been sitting in her tattered clothes
since when I have no idea about,
Life is where a man just slapped another
And where the daughter came home
at 2.00 am,
The room where the husband kicked his wife
It’s where a son just buried his father,
And amongst the men who roam with a knife.
Life is where the buses and trains
that are filled with people
and the blend of their scents of day’s sweat have blended,
And the hospitals where patients wait on drugs and their body heals
Amdist the smell of drugs and vomit, and the colour of blood and piss,
Life is where people are finding time to romance in between their 10 to 7 jobs,
It’s where one is working hard while the other dictates,
It’s where politicians and businessmen devise their scams
And the terrorists plan their threats,
Life is where a blacksmith just lost his fingers
And a boy won the bet,
Life is on the bridges from where men have lept,
And in the chambers of the hearts
where all secrets are kept,
Life is where a murder of crows sings
And a poem writes itself,
Life is not here, it is where you left,
Life is there where life wrestles with death.

The Man Who Knew Too Much

The dumb slept first
for he had nothing to speak,
The one who never saw
had no need to, for he was always asleep,
The man who could not hear
was haunted by nightmares filled with vicious screams,
The one who knew nothing
always relished sweet dreams,
While the man who knew too much
probably slept the least.

In life

The dumb possessed no worries
he never kneeled to pray,
The man with blind eyes
almost always had his way,
The man who was deaf
managed a desolate corner to stay,
The one who knew nothing
never bothered to succeed,
And the man who knew too much
lived a life diseased.

Before Death

The dumb died in silence
The blind did not mind,
The deaf was slightly troubled
The ignorant’s death was kind,
But the man who knew too much;
Well he was never alive.


Poster on the Shack

I was driving down the country road one day

When I saw celluloid poster high,

high up on the roof of an old and broken shack;

The man in the picture was all painted white

and the girl was spit on the black.

I stopped my car and stepped out of it

At the entrance door there stood a young lady

Or that she was young once, but not now

Now she old and her face was scarred and wrinkled

and the skin was loose

Yes I saw it all, when I stepped close.

While I realised of her elderness

Her centurion and tired eyes had gazed my years

And somehow I thought she knew

That I was on the run from a prison.

On entering the shack,

charred and bored, and smelled of smoke,

and I asked for a martini dry

He set me up with my drink

Whilst the eyes around stared at me,

Suspicious of the strange ambience

I decided to flee.

But not just now, not just now

I must first finish my drink, suck the martini dry

and finish it I did and moved out

But I did not know, if there was anyone

Who noticed my move sly.

Out when I came, there was none I could see

The old lady was gone,

I walked up slow to my ride

looking round and about

But before I could get in to drive

A siren caught my eyes.

A police car skidded past me from nowhere

Bullets grazed the air by me ear

Before I could respond with my colt,

A bullet passed through my heart clear,

And there I dropped on the ground

and saw the celluloid poster high

high on the tattered shack,

I saw the world white and blue

And then everything faded to black.









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.