Tag: poem writing

Fear
/has/ become the new religion
No
not the comfy opium
that cancels away the sweet prisons.

Jiddu Krishnamurti
says
that
this microbe
is a merely a product of
thought-time natak.(Drama)

Whatever
wherever
the origin might be

Fear /has/ become
the new school anthem.
/has/ become the pimple
on the face of freedom.

None dares to be a solider now
none dares to gamble their away now
none dares to be a fakir now.

Dear stranger
count the guns
and the guts of the dungeon
we shall break the bars.

-Lit the nerves.

(#)

---

I too had a
living body
once or twice or thrice
but then
came an accident or incident or coincident
that took the breath
away
away
away
different types
of rearranging fates
to live again
again
again
but then
the pain
or the bane
always came
to rain
no one to blame
amen.

---

Sunset — hoped eyes
woke up like a spilt secret
in a state of skepticism.

Barefooted
I walked on the rotten time
and sang with the biscuit-ed moods.

Alexaaaaaaaa!!!!
Play “Beats of life”

The Athenian cat
did what he does —
ignore the petty mortals.

Nazi birds on the poles
were thinking without a Bannister.

With stooped shoulders,
Poetic pajamas and
Marxist beard
I serviced the civilization
by reading news headlines.

Milked the pen
to give caffeinated thoughts
did the moonwalk part
Yet
( — )

Next time
I’ll try clean-shaven.

---

There’s no gap from moment to moment for us
Is that why we all walk someone’s path
doing the greatest of all sins.

Man is a homo-ego-sapiens.
yet he doesn’t follow his ego-compass.

Dogs chase their tails.
they honor what is theirs.
Man
the child of freedom and adam
cannot swim an inch
in his own karma-pool.

Why do sirens go off?
Why does one become a cautious grandpa?
Why does one become a scary movie ghost
when all you do is follow your own smell?

Is fear
that vintage vinyl record
cawing at you?
that belly butterfly
going wild? becoming
a bad brainchild?

Is that your answer?
The answer is not for sale
dear.

---

Copper eyed man
at the ticket counter
gave some unflattering coins.

I sat on some utilitarian
poetic bench with
business thoughts in grey matter
and basaltic tie around the neck.

Lovers quarreling in the background
not sure who’s preaching who.

A fella with candle legs
talked about calculus stuff
with his nerd-guilt face friend.

One girl with black rose lips
was giving practiced goodbyes
with her wooden palms.

Cigarette ashes on the floor.
People filled till the concrete shore.
While I am listening
to the cinnamon song
which I played before.

— Drunken Platforms.

---

The sky was still like the blue flame
cooking impoverishment for the wretched.

Ocean was pregnant with the
waves, white corals — bleached to colourless death
and got acidified like a high school chemistry lab.

Night still looks like the Raven or Dostoevsky novels
with the white olive moon,
and the pillows cried yet another day.

Sensory — sapiens are swallowing
the air salad of
C0, C02, N0x, PM 2.5, Furans
and sulfur oxides.

Water
watered down
with watery things
without walling the
waves of waste.

Limousines emitting
status, filling insecurities, and
chauffeuring carbonated cacophony.

Soil got
stained,
soiled,
sabotaged,
sanitized
with the scams of savoury man.

---

Left-wing
Right-wing
Never a thing.
only a fight
in the ring.
people played
on a string
in full swing.
truth, not a sure thing.
justice
it was something
now nothing.

---

Sugared nutrition.
Flooded mailboxes.
God-ish morality.
Hashtag-ed opinions.
Social Media loves.
Ex-boyfriend poetry.
Teenage politics.
Books summaries and
parrot-ed writings.
Meditation games.
Lemonade talks.
Neon nights.
Weirdo tags.
YouTube education and
Reddit convictions.
Worshiped routines.
Play store/ App store freedoms.
Fight club gadgets.

— Drunken rat.

---

The book
was put on the embargo.
sentenced to hell
by the leaders of eco-chamber.

Unloved
Uncared
Unquestioned
the labor and
the song became invalid
and behind-the-curtain artist.

Fine was to crush the faith
and knife out
all the tunes
out of the tune
with the melody
of Marxist melodrama.

the last decency
of human rights
was wrapped
and condemned to conformity.

The ego of the state
was high
on the psychedelics
of yes-masters.

the masturbation of morality
to the lust of the law
and the rage of the collective
to the Orwellian originality
and the Camus individuality
was too much to the fragile pay check
and the policing conscience.

(Hope caught in a homicide)

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