The Jewel Of the Earth

You are Twenty Nine today,
How old do you feel?
Wisdom you display is ageless,
Words you say beyond your years.

You are a jewel,
The light of our Kingdom,
In you we see the ray of sun,
Shimmering delightfully, radiating the aura to us,
In you we see a hope of tomorrow,
A hope of waking up in our Shangrila.
In you we see a guiding light,
the way out of this mandala.

Everyday the sun sets without any promise of waking up again,
But it does.
Everyday the earth spins and every year it pilgrims around the sun,
It does so, ever silently that we hardly notice.
Every moment we breathe without realizing,
But we do.
Everyday is a new day,
A day to be happy and feel alive.

You are much loved Oh King,
Your hug embraces us all,
Your smile makes us smile,
Your words make us think,
Your gestures make us do.

Happy Birthday.
Wishing you much happiness.

Half Baked Poetree

And what is a poem, I ask?
A bunch of words
shuffled to scream?
It can moan and groan if I want to,
I can peel and seal,
sing and dance with letters and words,
I can jump to space and climb on Jupiter,
No even NASA couldn't do that! But hell I can,
my quill will and on my will it shall.

I can visit heaven and hell, if there is any,
can create my own if none exists,
I can become a bird, a flower and even the sun,
I can stop the poem and dirty it,
mess it that no one finds it poetic,
I can do what I want and even if that isn't enough,
what more is there to do? I am god, on this blog atleast!

I can make love to Buddha, but he doesn't desire me,
I can take Christ off his crucifix, free him of his pain,
I can do tandav with Shiva and braid his dreds,
I can strip cotton off Milarepa and even his black magic cannot stop me,
I can dig Kerouac from his grave and make him kiss me,
I can do what I want, what can I not, tell me?

So, the power of writing shall rule the world,
as long as humans live.
Now a tiger cannot write can he?
Well a tigress can, this is her poetry!

Joke of life called iRoNy

Laugh and someone weeps,
Joke and offence sweeps,
Calm is no balm,
Psalms no one hymns,
Knock and hear no sound,
Cry and no tears drop,
Smile and lips don’t stretch,
Sound that no one hears,
Leaves that will leave,
Flowers that don’t bloom,
Seasons that doesn’t change,
Wars that don’t kill,
Love that doesn’t care,
Mockery that doesn’t mock,
Life that doesn’t live,
Laugh if you will,
Iron of irony,
Sigh and why of lives,
Hi and bye.

Sun Tone Stones of Hampi

Amidst stones and boulders lies a kingdom far far away, down south, an ancient kingdom which was the seat of the Hindu empire for more than two hundred years. This ancient Hindu kingdom was perhaps one of the best planned cities of those times and every step you step, takes you back in history resonating the energy of those times.

Ramble

Jingle Jangle

Jumbled Bangles
Tangle Tangle
Untangle
Entangle
wrangle mangle
mingle single
tinkle twinkle
sprinkle
wrinkle wrinkle
winkle
L I F E

Come hither Spring on your Wing

A fresh spring breeze,
wafting from the seas,
gently blows away winter,
bitter winter,
the ice cracks and melts,
the trees creak with joy,
birds twitter and sing,
frogs croak o-boy,
a dog stretches lazily,
a cat yawns and sleeps,
I bite my nails,
sniff the air and scribble,
Oh spring have you arrived?

29-01-09

Clamshell he called me,
I fluttered like I had no shell.
Writers, with words they woe,
with silence they crack your heart.
Clamshell, Crabshell, crap-shell!

(found in my drafts)

Poof! I shall blow you

When you die,
I shall smile at your pyre.
I shall laugh with the fire,
along with the sizzles,
hope it drizzles,
not letting you burn,
not so easy.

Hatred, jealousy, desire,
compassion,love, beauty, humility,
different words,
different swords,
One cuts deep and slashes,
the other opens the heart,
said the bards of the past.

So when you burn I shall feel nothing,
nothing at all.
I shall remember no past, nor concoct no future,
I shall simply let you turn to ashes and when the drama is over,
I shall blow away the dust off my hand and feel it,
is it ash or human flesh?
When will you die? do invite me for the funeral!

Balsam Pomorski Tradycaj

For a week it has been lying on my table,
next to my bed, within my hands reach,
to teach,
I listen and I submit,
Humbly, dumbly,
I listen and I talk, but can it listen?

I reach out again,
I see the colour,
the entire week it is the same,
slightly herbal, gold,
strong and bold.

It burns, turns
and puts on a smile on my mind,
a laugh on my tongue,
gone are the frowns,
the creases and bruises,
the ifs and then and buts and whens and hows and whys
floating in cosmos, lying in bed,
I look back at it,
Balsam Pomorski Tradycaj I say aloud like I would utter my lovers name,
the Polish Flavoured Vodka!

RandomImageriesOfZeMinD!

An eyelash fell on my fingers,
a strand of hair sticking on my coat,
nails looks dirty and brittle,
I see dead cells come alive and die again,
I wonder how strange we are.

Strangers we find strange,
of people we mock and talk,
but we too are in the mandala.

A spider spins a web somewhere,
A man builds a house,
A lion pride hunts in the Serengeti,
A cat purrs, the sun is tired and the moon lazy,
but the man, the man is the man, never fatigued,
ideas and words and letters and bombs and blasts
and boredom.

Ask a man to sit alone in a room,
24 hrs and he is slightly mad,
so much he can live with himself.
He needs a remote, a paper, a smoke, a drink,a ball/balls
something to fiddle and meddle,
so much he needs to be himself.

A chillum baba of the Ganges,
A saint chewing cocoa leaves in South America,
A Buddhist monk in a cave on the Himalayan top,
each one, a Nostradamus wanting to be,
when all is clear, when all is known,
nothing but death surrounds,
play the music of life,
but even a symphony has to end,
silence will rule,
but someones music has just begun,
so the Mandala,
spins, spins,
it hurts my head, it spins,
so does earth everyday!

I await

I await to bury my head in your chest,
get as deep as I can in your vest,
the best.

I await you to look into your eyes again,
to see the joy of pain,
to see the light when our gaze meets,
yet again my dear- yet again.

I await to sit in silence,
wrapped in your arms,
hearing nothing but just your breath.

I await for wordless expressions,
motionless dances,
weightless happiness.

~I love You.~

Reading is the muse of writing, amusing

I have tons of readings to read, I know that's a lot, whole lot, hell lot and it is in such times when you are to concentrate with your mind entirely, the muse awakens. The muse loves musings, it is clever, it knows that when it is not wanted it shall tempt and coax and finally get the fingers to move, smoothly, move them in words, frame sentences and there you go, a para-graph is ready.

It is joyfully clever, even when it has nothing to tell, it will yet not stop speaking, it just continues, murmuring and buzzing, soft sounds and loud noises, whatever it pleases and if you do not obey, then you had it! It will then exclaim and claim your voice and make it sound its own, it will take over, completely and you will have no say, no say at all, it is the muse and the muse loves being mused not abused.

But, but if you love it and if you hearken to it, it is the bestest confidante, choosing your words for you, your voice, your rhythm, rhyming where possible, connecting and dis jointing when not necessary, expressing the feeling, helping you lament and rejoice and giggle and chuckle and talk of love and life and help you get higher up the mind, oh muse, elevate me, levitate me, I await to join your abode in splendor, await to obey you ,my lover, my muse, I await to be told of the world and the worlds that have passed by, I await to listen to your voiceless voice, quiver listening to it, soaking every technique you tell, mopping it to my bank of memory, storing it gently, tucking away the moments spent with you my muse, descend now will you or just take me away, I await to be in your arms, your loving arms.

As you hold me I shall burst into a sensual prosody, uttering my endless songs and hopes and dreams to meet you, oh formless, being- less, benign muse, I put a pen next to me, a white sheet of paper, cross legged, my head looking into the sky, I await for you, come to me......
or did you just leave me?