Thoughtful (Poem)

Image by Pheladi Shai from Pixabay

The train of thought
was a rumbling one
very close
to great Indian railways.

I left the stations
of Plato, Socrates, Kant,
Hannah Arendt and other
such wise fellows
to burn my engines of the cranium.

Neural obesity of schools
and university did not
give me greener ideas.

All I had was some
colored and copied ones
to entice the unread.

At last, after a few shots of courage
some came up
good enough to start a caffeinated small talk.

The whole process
resembled a Swedish night
waiting for the sun.

For this, we need some iron
to trust our own mental breeding
if not,
wait for the intellectuals
who write down noble books
filled to brim with
the un-collected societal wisdom
left to the journal-writing vultures
by feared men and women.

We need valor
to wear the rounded hats
to walk with spirited sticks
to tread the tea bars
to ferment the dull cups
and pale milk.

Hence O’ nerds
hanging to the walls of
grey and cracked libraries

Hence O’ market-troublers
raising fists to fables

Hence O’ garden-walkers
and black-board artists
and beard trimmers

— the society awaits your holy germination.

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