POESIE

 Passions erupted from tranquil reveries

Of sorrow and gay sceneries-

Exciting Euphrosyne and Melancholy

Soothing senses in serenity.

In this divine gift cleped poesy

Entice I ever sans misery.

AFSPA

 In the land of the mighty heroes of valour

That rivaled the bravest warriors of Greece

They came and renounced everything we favour

Protection they promised, protection they seized.

Mum was our voices we relentlessly wailed

Maimed was our spirits we clung on 

In broad daylight, darkness prevailed 

In panic, hope was never gone.

Our protests washed up upon the tides

Like the carcasses of lifeless bodies

Disappeared eerily in countless nights 

In that bloody tide that was our identity.

Women deflowered and children orphaned,

Unscathed was only the spirit that never lowered

And corpses piled up as high as our mountains 

But we never cowered like cowards.

I am like you

 I am like you

I am no indifferent.

I too come from the land

Of the birth of religions

Just like you

My brothers and sisters.

I am like you

I don't eat cats and dogs

Stop calling me Chinese or Japanese.

I too am a true born Indian

with Indian blood

Just like you 

My brothers and sisters.

I am like you

Though I don't look

Or talk like you,

I see and speak 

Just like you

My brothers and sisters.

I am like you

I dwell with forests and mountains

But don't treat me like an ape man,

I too enjoy equal benefits 

As any equal Indian

Just like you

My brothers and sisters.

Please,

Stop making us disappear

from your big cities

Please,

We will vanish sooner

than the Bengal Tiger

Please.

I am just like you

My brothers and sisters.

Emptiness

 Everywhere I go,

I find something missing

Wherever I am,

I am always searching

Always missing, always searching

Never finding.

Perhaps,

It's the spirit of youth

That pictured everything jolly

Faded long ago

Like the spirit of Nature

With its vibrant shades of gaudiness.

Perhaps,

It's the essence of hospitality

That beheld everyone lovely

Faded long ago

Like the essence of Family

With its amiable laughter and bickers.

Maybe,

It's only I 

Who is as empty

As abandoned houses in villages

Who is as lonely

As isolated trees in cities.

Everywhere I go,

I will always be missing.

Wherever I am,

I will always be searching.

Unkempt feelings

 Unkempt feelings erupt inside

As a fiery volcano in all its might

Gaudy and many are the clothes in my closet

Enough to fill the racks in an outlet

Yet owned  by whom adorn them not

Lonely and somber are they gilded by the moth.

Whilst the sun shines, mine closet trembles

The shoes, they wend, they rend, they assemble

As if to ask I to air them, to clean them, to wear them

But I attire not which are eternally damned.

Whilst the rain falls, mine closet wails

The closet, it blubbers, it bickers, it ails

But how could it ever silence its sorrow

When its deserter seeks deluge morrow?

Whilst the snow falls, mine closet grumbles

The coats, they wend, they rend, they assemble

As if to ask I to dust them, to clean them, to wear them

But I attire not which are eternally damned.

Whist the swallow twitters, I ponder

And I wonder if I could wander

And shed that confines I a loner

And with glee, trail the vales yonder.

Whilst the water ripples, I bemuse

A time when my elegy and I fuse

A place my ballads and I use

A moment, when I could gaze the hues

Whilst my closet trembles, I wonder

If I could shoo the moth and sunder

The strife and  wander the places I condemned

But I desire not which are eternally damned.

Moody and gloomy are the clothes in my closet

Enough to reek the crevices of mine outlet.

On Emmett Till’s lynching

 She said he offended her

She said he abused her

She said he grabbed her waist

She said he called her names.

They abducted him

They beat him

They mutilated him

They shot him

They lynched him.

His pleas washed up in the Tallahatchie river

His innocence dispersed in the jury

His frame mangled in the open casket

But they weren't guilty.

They couldn't be guilty,

They still can't be.

She lied,

He died.

He was right.

But she was white.

Bloodied Golden temples: II

 They say

                they should've stayed inside.

They say

                they have no head.

They say

                they shouldn't have protested.

They say

                they have no brain

But

      I saw their brains

       beside their

      severed heads.