IMAGES


It is true that i believed of a world
and found later it not like nature
but like a painted ink drop 
which lashed across 
my Indian Ocean Promontory
Far from the skyline, a star
opened its sparklers
towards my heart
to give me the final image;
images of my own
earthen elements 
like the reflection of 
pure Light...

SYNTHETIC..


How flashy the lights
and there we see the artificial smiles
so wide in plastic filled faces
and the show begins there
merely for the outside world
and there we find no true heartbeats
but only an unnatural beat for people
to glare at,
to create a print mark...
a kind of made up wraper
to walk around on fashion statement
in colours of prejudice bought
on stolen coins..
There we find the insincere smile of deceit,
in ink drops splashed across to create
not value but to devalue the real..


Artificial special effects...
Synthetic threads
to drape the dishonest ones..
Mere Show....

ARCHETYPAL

How good to see images

from an epic when i start my day

and in the beginning it appeared

strange until a star placed

its pure vision in my eyes

for me to see the real

ink shades of timeless archetypals

and that is the day i re opened

my ancient epics to learn

more about cosmic evolutions..

HEARTBEATS

Let my heart bleed

and in a way it is good

than to wrap wounds unhealed

for ages in thin muslin..

and let me read fables about friendship

from those who tingle from behind

and in stratagems

let me see how honesty lies…

Yes, even I am empowered now

to hold slander in style at return points

and It is true when I go back 

to my conscience

where I know at the end

it is painful to bear the burdens

but there no alternative

I find to heal the wounds

other than to retaliate.…

HEARTBEATS

Standing near the meridians

of seasons

my heartbeats remind

me of the beauty of words

ahead of one silence which

traumatizes and haunts

souls on subterfuge..  

From the mirror views

of reflections even I looked upon

once to grace a silence

but now I need to look below

to see its  pale shadow

in worthless pavements

glorifying  its own silent fears…

Strange but it is true

how classic themes  grow

in rampant time frequencies

and how a silence haunts

hearts innocently….

Standing near the meridians

of seasons my heartbeats

remind me of the beauty

of words which swap not heartbeats

like  a subdued pretense..…

IMAGES

REPLY TO A GOOD POET

SYMPHONY

How selfless music

which ties several strings

of the world in instruments,

unites languages of the world

ahead of religions

and geographical boundaries

where there no definition i find 
as genuine alphabets

bring in my heartbeats

a symphony....

REPLY TO A MODERN POET

There in metro rails

moments turn timeless

Modern thoughts sip coffee

in costa coffee outlets

and  smoke winter fire..

fom Perth to Indian cricket fields

we learned how to give back

membership honours

Members throw acid packs

in oceans to recreate cloud forms

and challenge the universe

Richters sour on heartbeats…

How modern our world

in unicodes..

REPLY TO A MEMBER POET

From images to my collection

of artifacts, I know I was not into

a discovery fragment to collect

grime from my immediate fences;  

a skill I know you appreciate not..

True, I looked around

for a portrait of nature there

and in woods I stored not

unaccounted gold coins

to serve a gourmet dinner

for your clan like the way

your new card holders do

and against your thousand

members I can show you my god

who granted me his vision

to know about you and about

your million face masks…

And let me tell you I know

what exactly happened

in between...

beyond the loud silence,

words spoken, written

and the colours splashed across…

REPLY TO A CLASSIC POET

Listen love

That was past and I did not know you

I was lost in my own world

and in pure sea shells I placed my heart

my only hopes rained near poems

and that you  destroyed on hatred,

love and revenge..

That is strange but ordinary

not  great…

UNPRESUMPTOUS

From the faces of shadows
I learn how modestly 
I can grow with the laced burdens
 of artifacts showcased
in one art gallery of peseta.
From the dissected heartbeats
of ink stained mornings
i learn how immodest
i can paint portraits against 
the will of my heartbeats
and at the end I know
how unpresumptuous
i can grow in face packs
in surreal plateaus …

 IMAGES

Once from dialects,

mirrors net trapped alphabets

of origin from one earthen ocean
but on morning light

there remained dew drops…

Looking at my face in one mirror

I realized a smile I lost

on seasons which reflected once

radiance of a million earthen lamps

From the ruins of stone temples

I learned that invasions

cause pain not only on stone statues

but even in hurt lockers

of Euphrates and Tigress…

Hurt or unhurt there remain

on the ruins

cradle of civilization… 

EQUATIONS


Surrounded frequencies
empty not my dreams
as dreams fly upwards
in poetic shells
from ruins to the shattered
main lands and from there 
to the star filled skies
and from Hill of Tara 
to many unknown terrains..
Several years I silenced
my heartbeats but not my dreams
and in new seasons
I fill a new word against
a tear drop to equate
the lost broken daylight...