29.10.05

Past Success, Said A Man

( In his famous poem “To the Indian who died in Africa” T.S Elliot wrote that immortal line
a man’s destination is never his destiny” )

Unlike the millions,
routine existence
mocking their dreams
I’ve been a successful man.
My destination was my destiny
and all due respect to Mr Elliot at that!
Indigence ne’er cooled my bosom
nor my soul wasted in languid despair
I’ve attained all I bargained for
I’m happy, I’m content, I’m in bliss if no more
And that is it.

That it is.
Yet
I do not know
where next to go
from this point
to leap to what unknown.
Darkness fogs my eyes
all my plans ruffled in vain
my very presence a stain
Call it wanton human greed
my heart crave and whine
the fragrance of victory
intoxicating than wine.
I wish for more..more success
Only I do not know in what

17.10.05

Analog

My old cassettes
   Have lost their sheen;
   Better music
   In circular plates
   Less scratchy, less space.
   Have displaced them from my life
Like old breadwinners,
  They replaced
   from their factories
   With gadgets.

Chaotic stacks in which they lie
  Gathering dust and negligence
  I do not have time left for them,  
  Yet they won’t ever take offence
   My disorderly old cassettes

Just sometimes in the middle of the night
  When silence creeps beneath my soul
   And faraway tunes of walked down times
   Brings fragrant whiff of tales untold…
Bygone melodies of coming to age
  My old cassettes I listen till late
  Rewind & play not the tape,
  Deep within my grown up head.

13.10.05

Prognosis

Late last night when phallus was high!
A few sad sky
  invaded my dining room
grabbed and robbed!
Fertile tomorrow’s futile plans

Putrid dismay prints of blood
Tsunami washed off alcoholic films
Negatives of a critical mood
  cloaked in hood;
Impish winks luring teens
Snapshots from my sleepless dreams

Golden drops of brilliant wine
  trickles swig past desiccate lips
I, a stamp on blank blank sheets
Chiseled emotions on void breeze

Pallid papers; whiter than life
Chronicle sagas of hedonist greed
Crying birth on sidewalks spree
Wanton lust for carnal sins

Dear dear I now see clear
Mellow lights on died dusk feast;
Nature calls to embrace romance
  few cared but me shall heed
  Affected grace of polished swine
Urbane vandals distort fresh souls
  A dictate heart can never accede
Beauty ,I just can’t destroy you
                            Your gold;.

And finally
End will come
Superficial and inner me beneath
  constantly warring ; now climax comes
Confrontations will teach
Who shall inherit the streets
Who shall rot in grief
Neither inside outside me
Nor u can predict
The semblance of correct path
The Prognosis

Foul

Foul, a four lettered entropy
Whistling noisily beneath the humdrum of your skin
Foul, a c, o and k away from fuck;
In other words
A “cok” away from fuck!
if that’s what you will
The missing l can serve as your philistine organ.

Foul, an action the world takes
To retard your limbs back to inactivity.
Foul, the finality feeling
when the boss kicks a ramrod up your ass
The torn shoe on the middle of the road..
The glorious false position
When it’s busted that last Wednesday you missed your cousin’s wedding
Not for office but for a date
And that too at a thousand-eyeball-staring-at-you family function!

Foul, so harmonic an irritation
Traveling with you all your life
That it doesn’t appear to be an irritation anymore.

Foul, the acute dismay when you find
The torn ten rupee the bus conductor duped you with
Loss of “Oh I am so smart” ego
So more intense than loss of cash,
Or it can be the other way round too
Who cares?
It’s a give an’ take cycle dude
The victim can be your local electric guy
The mute horror in his face when to his
exasperated “I can repair one transistor sir…not a computer with 160 million of it”-
You quietly say “Try them one by one!"

Foul, the blushing destiny of virgin vaginal lips..
Their redness as green as the wound within your heart;
Medieval apothecaries marauding as state of the art clinics
Foul your best friend’s kidney,
Plugging in that routine unapologetic smile
A defiance, only ignorance can show
Foul cried the local MLA
And the cameraphillic scribes
A media orgy wetting the tragedy white
While you quietly stare
Fouled by a best friend
Marooned in a crowded world

Foul, the inevitable pestilence – each and everywhere
The incredibility of your eyes - a foul
When they shun your ‘mature’ flick as porn
But the French masterpiece you stole from is hailed as art!
Foul, the tacky green interfering sky
Foul, an indolent mood a bovine world tramples by
The angry knocks on heaven’s door
Never realizing
Heaven was within your mind
Foul, the summation of all the ways you lost all your life
Foul, after surrender came the most brutal punch
Foul, another weary day’s food to crunch
And like ever before
The odds keep mounting against us
In this uneven game
After all, Foul..
Just another four lettered word
From the final scorecard
Of a lousy football game.