Words.

extremely strange creatures they are.....ever changing ever evolving.It is almost as if they have a mind of their own...At times they are like your best friend, flowing with you....articulating anthing you wish....and yet at times inept at expressing themselves.....as in what words are there that better describe the words pain,thought,blue....i could go on for ever.....and yet they can be powerful enough to move huge armies to war....inspire humans to do that which is impossible....to wound a person deeper than any dagger could have....am not saying that i have discovered something new....just a mere observation.A fragment of my thoughts...an impression left behind by meandering feet.

Drunk in Goa.

I wish i could drift on,
Drift on with the flow,
Let all waves flow over me,
Let the tide engulf my pride.

And the ebbing sea carries me on;
To never,never land.

Fishes and octupuses ,
And a few sea-horses too...
In never,never land.

A few Goan songs
And candlelit beer
In never ever land.

Fireworks in the nightsky
And the last cigarette butt;
In never never land.

Abroken pen,a wet diary
And an unfinished poem.
In my never never ..........

The Trap Door

I float solemnly up there,
There is eucalyptus in the air.

I have to break through,
Straight on through the trap door.

My city of smiling faces,
Of screeching tyres
And slithering steel wires
Stifles me.

I have to break through,
Straight on through the trap door.

And I float slowly up there

Monkeys turning cartwheels
And snakes dancing to the same old tune.
A hundred channels shout,
And a million phone calls
There are two more cars on the road today
And three less septagerians.
The rickshaw wala pulls on…..
His tired limbs ……he pulls on......

And I float slowly up there,
The mirth of death poisons the air.

I have to break through,
Straight on through the trap door.

The moons riding high
And it is the 21st of July;
Another glimpse of life
Another slice of my time.
Network of lampposts
Directing us down roads
We travel everyday.

And I float slowly up there
But there is no air anymore;
No one can break through,
The disillusion, the trap door......

Voices.

The muted drizzle brings to me
The sounds of the night,
As My Navy Cut and I listen;
To the story....the story of another day,
another fight ,another battle ,another epilogue.

The factories,the roads,the cash counters...
Are silent as half-dead human voices speak at last.
The laments of the drunken rickshawpuller,
The sobs of the bereaved mother
Who paid her son to the country for subsidised kerosene,
The lonely husband who awaits his wanton wife,
A young couple making love.
The sethji counts on....green notes...green leaves.
The beggar shuffles past small puddles,
Brown stains on grey pants.....
And a bright red heart with smoking black lungs.

And the night radio plays on...
Singing the epilogue to another day.
My Navy Cut and I...we burn on...
And the sounds of this wet night.

Devil's Dance

The rain pours down,
Red drops from a brilliant red sky.

Each drop reverberates....
Calling all cold-blooded creatures
To come alive.
Slithering snakes....
Copulating Turtles....
Throbbing lizards....
Dead Men.

The drops fall on deserts of dried blood,
Soaking up the evil of ages,
And forming pools of scarlet sins.
Religion,caste,war,sex.....
They all dissolve.

Hearts that had stopped beating
Once more filled with desire.
Ah ! The air so promiscous.....
Ensnares the mind.
It pains....to breathe.

The world celebrates in one big orgy.
The rain dances down,
Red drops from a brilliant red sky.
The Dance Of The Devil!!!!!

She

She is the image of a girl waltzing....
oh how she moves....
her hips...
her arms........
her legs.....
her eyes......
piercing the darkness of the cold night,
her gaze transcends horizons ,and,
shakes out of his nightmare
every man who has ever loved......