Elements Clack Silence

Written on Tuesday, August 5th, 2008 at 3:57 am
Filed under Poem.

WISDOM

I always dreamt the world
as one and thought I belonged
but none let me live

my simple soul at home
with differences
they kicked me into exile

for their prejudices
forced me seek my nest
in myself

I share the wisdom
of peace and life in tune
with nature

WIT AND SOUL

A Matisse or Picasso
only complicates
the secrecy of your face

I dont understand
you, your body, or the nude
even if I touch

hold your hand or sleep with you
sharing long kisses
the mystery of the dark womb

your mind and silence
hardly make up love we seek
squeezing wit and soul

REALIZATION

Men or women
no living gods:

the soul has no sex

the form, the body
and the name unreal

the climax of eternity
denudes the mind

DREAMS SHROUD

Theres no meaning
in being cold and groan:

silence frightens
between the acts

who cares how much
I care and love

forgetting wrinkles
in the lone pool

dreams shroud the gloom
unburnt in sun

SOME TRUTHS NOT SPOKEN

I dont know how
the bones grow in the womb
still in darkness

elements clack
in the small house shudder
the harp and strings

the heartbeats pronounce
the balance of nature
against heat wind rain

look for bodys love-
the mystery song echoes
some truths not spoken

GOD, SEX, AND THE WORLD

Its part of prayer
to love the lingam kissed
or kiss it to feel

the creators pulse
for a moment
thank the body too

that houses the spirit
we seek in His name
for relief and salvation

through the cycle
of day and night
meeting and departing

learning and unlearning
each moment synthesizing
god, sex, and the world

SHIVAS THIRD EYE

gods sin against God
betray creation
break covenant

Shivas third eye opened
fire burnt out by Fire

Agni defiled sexact
outraged love in action
sacrileged union

they still peep in privacy
fear fire, question freedom
dictate codes for love

worship lingam
forget Shiva

FRESH FUTURE

Where will we reach
sailing in a coffin

or dreaming to anchor
off the rainbow arch

the gold and purple ashes
wont revive the phoenixes

lost in myths and stories:
we need to recoup

the elements balance
and create new suns

and moons that could light the cave
and begin a fresh future

UNHEARD NOTES

The unfilled spaces
tell of what we miss or fail
to sense between days

moments of hurry
seek life with spirit and hear
unheard notes of love

NIRVANA-I

It doesnt end even if I abandon desire:
non-suffering is no key to nirvana

in the maze of unliving the past and passions
and novel delusions of mind and fears

the itch and sensations, growing degenerations
of island existence in dimming light

life only freezes; the foul of stagnant pool
yet the hope of lotus rises with sun

HOPE OF DIVINITY

The falsity of the sky is more real than the earths
lies cant sustain hope of divinity

we have complicated with poesying
private hells to mitigate flow of time

that couldnt carve heaven: we harbour histories
of broken promises and fallen gods

lament men and women buried in light
now soulless, bodyless, traceless we look

upward and whittle continents from clouds
hanging generations that may never be

NIRVANA-II

The sky frightens with lightning and rain
raises neither fire nor quenches the earth

Ive lost a chance to create despite ritual
end of the day and her parting with a kiss:

now sulking with a glass in the dark
its stupid to talk about nirvana

UGLINESS

I am no Moses receiving
Gods message in lightning or thunder

none recognize me in the dark
nor can I see any without light

the cyst on my neck constantly
reminds me of the ugliness

the whitening chest and pubic hair
tell of the death of my potential

the earth needs timely spells of rain
and elements saved from human fears

I must redraw my dreams and visions
to brave life and the intriguing future

NUDE ORIGIN

It was dark before being born:
I love the light after birth
the eden on the earth

I may not know where I go
after living the hard life
but I know the freedom

get back to what God gave us
in love let life shape anew
from the nude origin

MAN OR ANIMAL

Some animals are buried
and some rot on the highway
unrecycled by vultures

uneaten by worms but run
over by wheels that dont care
the shitman or animal

SNAKE

Hiding or waiting
it raises its head when least
expected, a snake

glitters in the eyes:
looks for the moment to slip
and reveal the fangs

I AM TOO SHORT

The creeping termites
in the center raise castles
to house snakes and frogs

even seeds birds drop
for rains to nurture sometime
in uncertainties

I cant clear the ground:
the holes gape through tall grasses
and I am too short

RIVERS SONG

With steel flow
the rolling water
pierces the rocks
and shapes them into stars

the sun and the moon fail
to match its sharpness
the wailing of the rocks
turns into rivers song

HELPLESSNESS

Walking along the sandy edge
he blames the wind or cloud
and yields to the alchemy
of seasonal allergies

plastic flowers couldnt keep time
moving in his house:

he remains restless
with fears and uncertainties
grows walls of alienation

suffering images
of strangeness every moment
or sensing shade of a nude
survives their helplessness

LONG TRIP

Ageing he thinks of
the ashes and the long trip
ahead in spirit

feels the earth he would
become celebrating life
as good as ever

THE BEES WONT RETURN

When flowers have dried
who will feed the bees
that hum for honey

or feel the hands
that tend honeycombs
of orange groves

they may meet
to recall
the golden days

and even tune
a new hymn
to dispel the spell

or whatever caused
the hives burial
in smoky hush

but I know
the bees wont return
to naked trees

EROTIC SCARS

Sleeps the night with
desires wrapped in blanket
spring in the eyes

gods couldnt change the rhythm
of the body and its needs:
erotic scars stick

TRANSITION

Coming out of the room
they smile to think theyre not
what they were before
nor would they ever be
the same again even if
they wanted to be

ECHOES AND SILENCE

What are they

but a promise and fulfillment

in this world

mere sex

and sex

must be venerated

even as a poetic truth

disregarding

the strong urge

or fear so vehement

sometimes

they may look for the deaf and dumb

for relief

on back streets

or beside overhead tanks

what matters

is the spring music

playing about the edges

a flood of memories

through rack and weeds

tending the will

to become a garden

with echoes and silence

SEEKING INNOCENCE

She doesnt understand
my icy pain in dark

when she denies
the body doesnt die

theres no seeds for birth
the shell can be broken

I seek to revive
not youth but innocence

DONS IN FOUR WALLS

The house may collapse any day
the walls are cracked
the chinks gape at the base
but none care

they maintain dignity
with cosmetic protection
demand patience and practice
duplicity till their own end

in meanness evoke mystery
to quell good sense and concerns
for the future buy silence
of the dons in four walls

IT HARDLY HELPS

Theres little to sustain the past
looking beautiful each day

as we bury it or review
over a drink with strangers

who dont know and would forget soon
but we are our own judge

no one learns from others
and it hardly helps to teach

HEAVEN ON EARTH

Cloning miracles
with the nights discharge
in condoms

the political golfers
hit for divinity
in measured pace

take a long suck
to climax with myths
sown in the mud:

write a new history
with gods whose guff promises
a heaven on earth

TERRORISM

Each day ends in fear
of one or the other kind:
living in uncertainties
its life in death

and here they are
selling dreams
and winning votes

their proactive politics
adds to the list of
dead and dying

they may or may not sleep
in high security houses
but it will be too late
by the next election

IF THEY ORDER

Sitting in AC rooms
they do not know the cost
of failed adventure:

there wont be martyrs
for empty struggle tomorrow
they may all be shot

if they order the soldiers
to march to snowy mountains
never to return

POLITICS DEFIES SILENCE

Do they ever see themselves
their truth inside the mirror?

sound too much anger and hate
burn humans and homes to teach

lessons never learnt but played
the communal card for rights

no god granted. Their petty
politics defies silence

I DONT ENDORSE

I dont endorse their pact
to squeeze adulation and

control faith of the masses
to shed blood and spread darkness:

idols may draw crowds to kill
and the spell may not last long

the temple doesnt attract me
I want to forget the myth

after the fascists owned him
Ram has ceased to be God

NUDE BEILEF

I dont want to mount
the hardships of the sky
if the earths labour pain
is false or the action
stillborn with or without
scalpel the doctor
humiliates process
and I hate the crime
of creating god
on the ramp betraying
models too nave
to be worshipped
for nude belief

HELPLESSNESS-II

I have no magical power
to change my restlessness
into glory radiating
peace or purpose in living:

they give me no room to better
men or myself but condemn
as one hanged for nothing:
poets are no living lessons

I stand aside ruminating
what I couldnt do or be
or await miracles through
circles and zigzags of the mind

even corrupt faith and curse
destiny for the maze
of my own making and yet say
I know the spirits upward fire

LEECHES

At the end of the day
when I look back and see
my knowledge and insight
rusting with ageing colleagues
I pity my age and wish
to give up; I cant change
the means and ends frustrate
the will to work any more

I want to rest now burying
ambitions and achievements
that ache the soul and make
empty sounds in the hollow
of a hallowed pond long doomed
for marrying self-indulgent
elites and idiots
sucking generations

WHEN I STOPPED

If my world couldnt be
what I had thought in my teens
I cant help. I was
dependent on my father

a self-made man against
the currents I couldnt read
the sky and its stronghold

the prints of the Gangas sand
have faded like the rainbow
in a spray of years
that pricks like pebbles

now the caries, cavities
cyst and myopia haunt
and sexual anxieties
disturb sleep and dreamless nights

The hairs on my balding head
mirror the laughter
I have ceased to take note of

I have ceased to peel
the ugly shapes, the cunning
and treacherous I work with

Resent my identity
and the future I fail
spinning influences

yet Im sure when I stopped
it wont be all that bad:
my vision would still be good
I would still smell fresh air

Copyright:
Dr R K Singh
Professor & Head
Dept of Humanities & Social Sciences
Indian School of Mines
Dhanbad 826004
India

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