I think that I shall never smell
A stink as rotten as a shell.

A shell whose occupant has died
And left its softer parts inside.

A shell that crawled away to die
is very near and very high.

In the car it rolled and sweated
Until its pong became quite fetid.

A shell that gives off such a stench
Can make the toughest of us blench.

Whatever made that lovely shell
The devil must have made the smell.

HERE DEVIL’S ATROCITIES AND THE NECESSITY OF PURE SOULS
ARE NARRATED AS A POEM

WAR BETWEEN GOD AND HIM

WAR BETWEEN GOD AND HIM
====================

HE IS POWERFUL TO DO ANYTHING
HIS HANDS ARE MIGHTY TO DO HARM TO ALL
HE NEVER FEARS TO THE GOD
HIS RULE IS GOING ON HERE

TO CHANGE THIS CRUEL
NOBLE SOULS HAVE TO COME
THEY MAY BE FROM SLUM OR RICH
THEIR THOUGHTS SHOULD BE UNIQUE

PLEASING EXPERIENCE OF MINE

A RAIN IN A SUMMER DAY

A RAIN IN A SUMMER DAY
——————————-

IT IS TOO HOT AND BURNING MY FACE
THOUGH I WEAR THE GLASS AND HAT
NOTHING COOLS ME EVEN A TREE CNNOT DO
MY TRAVEL CONTINUES HOURS TOGETHER

SWEATING AND IRRITATION IN MY EYES
PREVENT ME TO TRAVEL FURTHER
I CROSSED AND STOPPED MY TRAVEL UNDER A TREE
SECONDS HAVE GONE.
CLOUDS ENCROACHES THE COMPLETE SKY
GENTLE WIND BLOWS ON MY SWEAT AND ON MY FACE

DHARMA AND MONEY

DHARMA AND MONEY
===============

IT IS THE DUTY OF SOULS TO DO
SOME THING FOR THE EARTH AND OTHERS
NOTHING WILL COME WITH YOU
THOUGH YOU ARE A KING OR EMPEROR

YOUR SINS AND NOBLES WILL FOLLOW
EVEN AFTER YOUR DEATH
DO GOOD FOR OTHERS AND DO GOOD

YOUR HANDS MAY BE EMPTY AND PENNYLESS
YOUR MIND HAS TO BE PREPARED TO GIVE ALL
YOUR HEART HAS TO READY TO SHED BLOOD FOR OTHERS

<!– alert –><!– text –>IT IS AN DESIRE OF AN INDIAN POET

A DEISRE OF AN INDIAN POET
DESIRE OF AN INDIAN POET
====================

HIS WINGS ARE GOLD AND
HIS SKY IS NEAR TO HIS FINGERS
THE STARS ARE LIGHT AND MOON IS MAIDEN TO HIM
THE BREEZE WILL COME TO FAN HIM
THE MOUNTAINS AND RIVERS ARE LOVABLE MATES
THE SEA AND IT’S WAVES ARE HIS FRIENDS

HIS THINKINGS ARE TOO GREATER THAN THE HIMALAYAS
HIS PEN IS SO STRONG TO CREATE A NEW WORLD
HE CAN DESTROY AND CREATE THOUSANDS OF WORLD
HIS PEN CAN DO MANY MIRACLES AS GOD

                                                           FIRST SIN

1

i waded through cans and lunch-wrappers on the picnic-grass,
then fled
i clambered over lichen-crusted rocks down to the water-edge,
but even here
ring-pulls, butts, a condom
as though the earth were fit for them

2

Mummy!   I was talking to you!
I feel ashamed
I was in another world again
Forgetting now
But the spontaneity has gone
He’s already said it once.

3

Up the street an empty playground,
overgrown wasteland below
Laughing voices, hidden
children running wild
Cops and robbers,
Mud-wading, making tracks
and cubbies.

There are lots of cubbies, mum
What are they called my sweet?
Valley, and Leaf ,and Merry-go-round
And Where-the-dead-dog-is.