Father and the Boy or (Ah ah aah yeah!)

Father, father no, don’t do this to me

Come, come my child, I am your father

Come give it to me,

No, no, father, I am only seven you see

Come, come here, lord’s home is where you should be,

And I am here too!

Come let me thrust some blessing into you,

Ah ah aah yeah! Jerk a little more my boy,

I’m your father after all, don’t be so coy

Aah aah, ah yeah! The father came with a burst of joy,

Don’t tell anyone of the secret blessing

I have bestowed on you, you boy!

And come again when I call

Father asked the child,

The blessed boy bled from the strike of spear

But did come again to father in fear,

And did so until he was fifteen,

For the father had stopped blessing him anymore,

He loved kids below sixteen.

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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.

One to the head

One to the head
One said 7 times, the gun was shot,
The other said it pierced him thrice.
Both of them sure, that one was to the head,
And the next moment a human being died.
He was a writer
And a man who expressed,
And showed the World
True colours of a false paradise,
These heathens in a legion’s disguise,
But their reaction, was full of surprise.
For instead of understanding
What he was trying to make them understand,
They blamed him for his religious reprimand.
And summoned him in the court of law,
And that court was swell
And that law was flawed.
But before the law could prove his guilt,
He was condemned of sins and shot,
In the middle of the street,
Against the sun’s glaring heat,
He lost the battle he never fought.
7 bullet shots were shot
Three piereced through him,
But it took just one to the head,
To leave a writer and a human being
In the street, bloodied and dead.
Have no clue about the others,
He has my respect,
For he only said that was true,
Which others could not accept,
And that there is something wrong with the world,
Do you not suspect?

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.

Georgina’s Bastard

One Sunday morning
Went to the church Georgina’s bastard
To have bread and wine,
Stole four eggs,
on his way back,
Keeping the eggs on the rack,
He looked at her and smiled,
Georgina in rage slapped him twice,
Called him an ugly swine.

One Monday morning
Went to work Georgina’s bastard
To claim his monthly pay,
Came drunk home
with an ugly whore,
Losing all money on bet,
Georgina on his ass
kicked him twice,
Called him a piece of shit.

One Tuesday morning,
Went shopping Georgina’s bastard
After spending all,
He lifted up some items,
Told his mother how cleverly he saved few dollars,
Georgina kicked him thrice,
Warning him to be wise.

One Wednesday morning
Went fishing Georgina’s bastard,
In the midnight
Returned empty handed,
Sorry mother I couldn’t catch one,
For there were none,
The whole pond had dried!
Poor Georgina did nothing,
Just sat by and cried.

One Thursday morning
Went to bank Georgina’s bastard,
Withdrew money from her account,
Came back home without a dime,
Sorry mother,  I had held it close
But a stranger took it by force,
Don’t worry,  I too grabbed his gold!
Poor Georgina just gave a sigh,
She knew the end was nigh.

One Friday evening
Went to a bar Georgina’s bastard,
Got drunk with friends
Till he couldn’t anymore,
Came back in the dawn,
Wobbling legs, eyes sore,
Get out of the house you bastard,
Cried Georgina on his face,
Picked up the knife from the table,
Killed Georgina in rage,
Poor Georgina smiled alas,
He had proved :
what a bastard he truly was.

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.