Skip to main content

Hypocrites

Yet again in this world
An unruly Goliath will slay David ,
Another Judas will stab Jesus
and we will count numbers after
the world wars ,
I ,II ,III.
The victims ,the anguishes ,
the helplessness.
You will watch from
Inside your house
sheepishly,waiting an unreasonable fear.
A normal death
Would be so comfortably
Unexpecting. Isn't it ?

And then after the show ,
When you tranquilize your
Conscience
with sips of alcohol ,
You will read out some prophecies loud
and go to bed
To pounce upon your prey.
And it will iterate.

Life will recycle
Until one day ,

You will blame the
Sand clocks for not being
Unequal
Except the midnights.


SoUmY@

Comments

Rukhiya said…
Another of your 'very-best's . Il leave it at that. :)

Popular posts from this blog

Untitled

You travel - Through unknown stations, passing empty paddy fields. over quiet rivers that rest beneath you. You bring a lot of earth along, And smell of mud, fish scales and trains.  You whisper and scream, Put your nails in me, occasionally call it love. Other nights, we make peace. Strangely at dawn, When the Sun rises and you see me sleeping,  I hear your whisper,  you travel ...   ... Deep inside me.

Untitled

Wish I could be a cloud one day I will love to be grey if its you To whom, through whom I traverse. Transparency is optimum; For I know you are unattainable like the sand escaping from the fist like the meaning assumed from the gist. look, oh yes, I can rhyme too. If you wish I can artify our world. Inspiration never needs a permit. You had asked, Why do I vomit blood. Interruptions in dreamy un-realism doesn't suit me. I know. So I write. So that I can breathe you in and breathe dreams out. Live long, you had wished. (Wished), did you? honestly? I will let it pass like just another Failed attempt to face reality Finds itself en-route to contamination. Oh! then what is pure? you may ask. Purity is not you, not me, but us. Purity is the way verses traverse. I will vomit to death one day. Do not pray for me. Pray for my poems who are quiet. Let them borrow my breaths. Let the poetry for us live. (And the footnotes conclude:) You - a miser in love Me - a happy lender. SoUmy@

Of Another Season...

On a day like today when an abrupt monsoon meets A delighted Sun, I think of you, like the dew drops on the petals - the freshness, eternal. On a day like today When my Neruda can sip coffee with your Joyce, you come to me as if memories were more real than now. They always were, are. On a day like today, When the translucent streets of my home gets wet and hears a tram go by, your thoughts occur. I feel you beyond those concretes and raindrops kamikaze. On a day like today, When my words seek no grammar and chases no metaphor, I think of poetry and I think of you. With or without, I wrote for. On a day like today, When I am diseased and all burnt, I want you to forget me as a season. We will meet again in summers, in our little ways, before Sunrise. SoUmY@