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.

Before My Eyes Burn

 

Would you come now?
It’s getting late, and the sun is about to set;
I haven’t seen you with my open eyes
I cannot remember since when,
Would you come now?
Find me, follow the light;
Claim the part in my life that you have earned.
And if you intend to
Then look up in the sky and follow the smoke,
My heart is ash now;
Find me before my eyes begin to burn.

People tell me to tell them

Providence

People tell me to tell them
About the problems that I face,
The many demons that in my mind race,

But I am unsure if they will understand
If I could feel the pointlessness behind every point they make
From the people born of virgin mothers, to the ones who were burnt at stake.

Would any of them understand?
Those people who tell me to tell them
But about what should I tell them?
Which devious thoughts of mine should
I dare to share?

That I find their so called socialising like a parasite in nature,
A mutualism that sustains by feeding off each other,
Or should I tell them
That I am tired, reaching exhaustion, of the petty sarcasms,
That my ears might begin to bleed in rage,
That their exclaimations and apostrophes of “I know!”
Is infact, probably, the most stupendous act.

People tell me to tell them
But should I tell them?
That I think that what we think of each other is almost always false,
Framing and exhibiting judgements on others is not a job of ours;

It is not because we are incapable
But because we don’t know each other,
A proclamation would be either an ignorant or an innocent lie,
And I don’t see any providence in it
When we all are meant to die.

 

Child & the Ghost

Child:

Who are those people dressed in black?

I have seen some of them in my neighbour’s shack.

 

Ghost:

Wake up! You child. Snap out of your dream

Un-shut your eyes and pay attention

Can you not hear the requiem?

 

Child:

The Requiem?

What on this globe is that?

 

Ghost:

Its a tune of sorrow

A song to send off the dead

The bodies with no tomorrow.

 

Child:

And what is that box of wood that I see?

Why is the earth there dug?

 

Ghost:

Coffin; it is called, carrier for those who die,

And the dug earth is where they shall lie.

 

Child:

Why do those people cry?

Where do we go, when we die?

 

Ghost:

Not far my dear!

Just somewhere between the sea and the sky

See for yourself, you are already here.

 

 

Forgotten

I look at the faces

of men and women, I once knew

 

And I see

that they have changed so much,

They seem almost new;

 

Or have I been, so long gone

that I have almost forgotten

They way they looked at me

and I at them.

 

Have I been so long attached to

myself

That I do not remember

All that I am detached to.

 

The Return

You lived your life

fought all, and everyone you could

Did everything you should;

 

Now rest your tired bones

empty your heavy soul,

And lay down your weapons

It is time to march home.

 

I know you have come a long way

miles and years from home,

And a million montages of past

with people, and alone.

 

But now you have tread enough

And there is no road, for you to follow any more,

Set the oars down

you have reached the final shore.

 

Disregard all the reveries

don’t conjure the ghosts,

Let your demons rest in peace

let your exhausted self, return back home.

 

Don’t let affection for life

precipitate in your eyes,

A gift it was you cherished

and now death complies.