I am not a window pane
To be sat upon in the rain
I am not a viewer with a hallucinatory brain
To the box that sucks out souls
And sells them in the street
I can walk on my own
With my two cut off feet

The bread of love, the breath of love,
the sense of giving all,
a hand, a heart, a taking part,
in life it's steady call
for things we do and don't,
those things we understand, yet not.

What makes it all a working form
that rolls and tumbles through this place,
becomes the shape we end up in the end,
a shape that clay-like gives the content of a man,
a woman, all mankind.

in search of God......

The world has yet not realized
God is simply a surmise…
I have visited far and wide
Churches Temples Mosques and Gurudwaras
and monks resorts---monasteries
as well as
Bodh Gaya….

all over the world I have been
between ocean and seas
and wilderness in-between…

around the world the universe...
all I see
they smile at me

huge blocks of man made sculptors
they smile and ask of thee
have you come for solace?

TV opens up the world.
Each distant peak sits so,
behind generic signs for gasoline.
Vague promise feeds the heart;
each scene,
each restaurant view.

The elegance of legs crossed
leisurely. Tanned arms on elbows
leaning in
to coffee cups
like clouds held waiting,
like a sign that says
ten miles to go.

How anxious,
how complete the yearning robbery.
The glamour lads who calculate their visit.

Remember Me…
When the air is soft
When the forest breathes
When the water sounds
When the sun is ripe
I will be your friend

Remember me…
Where the sands sigh
Where the snow deepens
Where the clouds weep
Where noise is constant
I will be your refuge

Remember me…
When all is turmoil
When peace is illusive
When rest is over the horizon
When the day is broken shards
I will be your comfort

For what reason should I put my mouth
Through the contortions you wish me to?
What benefit do I gain from all that wasted energy?
Why should I move my hands the way you want me to
What pleasure do I gain from all that in out manipulation?
I have jobs to do which make my environment clean as new
I have to write poems , earn my living for the next ten years
dance , sing and exercise so I can leave you
speak many languages, comment on current affairs
wash away the dirt off the day ,the heat of the night and morning dew

supine suppositions
descend
tender snowflakes
meaningful beauty in the cold

the day rolls slow
the pain
the ache
hurting like a wind

easing through the
wounds

A sun struggles to warm
the ice upon my heart
but its locked
and the key is somewhere
in the dark

most don't last in the walk of time
be it anything
poetry or rhyme

most don't care
beyond a single tissue
most take it fast ere it becomes an issue

Only those who endeavour most do last
never be too quick to end up fast…

take your time
prepare the audience of your kind
be it sexy poetry
or just a party

never be hasty
last as long as you can do
life's sojourn is far better
than reaching the destination
I wish you knew..

The fairy king sits on his rock-hewn throne
adorned with silver, gold and jeweled stone.
His heart is bleak; in court the minstrels moan.
He broods in silence and he weeps alone.
His blossom wings he spreads to tower high,
its feathers showered by the silver sky.
All love is gone, a gloomful dawn draws nigh
as lies his queen upon her funeral pyre.
The day is darkened, earth in earnest quakes.
The requiem rite the fairy lords partake
concludes. At last the king will cross the lake:

I wonder if the foundation
For your religion
Is so baseless.
Theology exams,yeah
Nobody aced it.
We cheated
But these people passed us.
Yet they have the guts
To still call themselves pastors??

Undergraduate,postgraduate
Right to the Masters.
I wonder if it is right
To start my pilgrimage
Right from Damascus?
For the sin is so ugly
I have to mask it.
Buried deep within
In righteousness' casket.