Everybody is at war with words
over whom to blame for this genocide,
while a thousand bodies,
crushed beneath the dead weight of fallen roofs,
putrefied the air.
Then yet another thousand more at least
men, women and children are waiting too
beneath the mound of death,
while the time and air both are running out,
in futile hope.
Now where are the brands like
Primark, Levis, Wall Mart, Nike or The Children’s Place,
that have gained profits, large
from cheap labor sold in these factories!
You bet they are not even worried though, they don’t mind,
for in a overcrowded land of two hundred million
they can kill a few thousand poor souls, anytime
and get away with it.
A moth, tiny and innocent,
a shade of yellow that is just
one wash darker than cotton white,
retires upon the drapes
along the window in my room.
Weeks ago when her life began
as a caterpillar, hideous,
the hunger for tender leaves
ruled her then until she could weave
a silken cyst around herself.
There in that hanging cell she grew
her translucent and fragile wings,
a marvel of aeronautics,
to emerge as the harmless moth
that now lies right in front of me.
Since her reemergence, days ago
laying down her fertile eggs had been
the only thing in her simple mind.
Now it seems she is done with that,
both her wings have grown too heavy,
her eggs by then have begun to hatch already
to let her genes live, now she can die in peace.
Soft music reverberates
around us, diffused in the happy wind.
Warm whispers flowing to and fro
between us with love burning in our eyes.
In your shadow, too dim, I see the pain
inflicted and received through indifference
and the pleasure derived from indulgence,
I know for sure, mine shows the same to you.
But the past or the future, none
can refrain the present’s desire
for joy, raw and transient too in the end.
Thus we must let it go again, every time…
Later when the music and whispers too have died,
we wonder if such mindlessness is love in deed!
Darkness of the night contrasting
with the bright chaos inside my brain
and silence with the violent storm
raging across the ocean of my soul…
The soft and mellow wind against
my burning skin belies the heat
growing from the flames beneath,
as if a spirit has been set ablaze…
The sun has woken up I know
as darkness on the eastern sky
begins to pale with a dim glow,
while here a conscience, sleepless still
commence darkening, before passing out
from my eyes no tears, oozed a drop of blood…
i dare call this a haiku (a string of haiku, in fact) because not only it is composed in a 5-7-5-5-7-5-… meter, the 1st stanza consists of 5 haiku, the 2nd 7 and the last 5… maintaining the overall 5-7-5 (though in haiku instead of meter) structure… it is an experiment… i hope not too offending to the haiku lovers… i love it too
across the metropolis
are falling asleep,
as the light inside
them all goes dark one by one
and the night deepens.
All of them save one
within hours shall fall asleep,
waiting for the sun,
then nightmares and
dreams of joy and sadness too,
in packs or alone,
shall begin to prowl
the realm of subconsciousness,
still grey and unknown.
The fluorescent light
from lampposts along the streets,
glowing white and blue,
turns the shade behind
even darker than they are,
like an illusion.
Waiting for the dawn
both the city and the night
in vivid silence,
waiting in darkness
but waiting for that clear light
of the morning sun.
Riding through the dreams
and haunting nightmares too,
the windows, asleep,
in a darkness calm
perforated with barking dogs
and lorries growling,
are waiting as well
for the brightness of the dawn
and the morning light.
All except the one
that has kept the night again
waiting for dear sleep,
while sleep yet again
has evaded his prayers, sincere,
now the night is gone!
Life all around in
beasts and humankind alike
are shedding their last
vestiges of sleep
in noisy preparation
for the coming day.
All except the one
who has found his sleep at last