C’est La Vie, Mon Chéri

C’est La Vie, Mon Chéri

The final countdown has begun,
cruel winter is coming to the temple and the crown.
Feting the unweeded growth of life, I should have known
her majesty, Death, has many faces, of which
too much life is the devious one!

   

O sweet life, how I longed for thee
in my fretful dreams and my sleepless wanderings,
a loner, walking on the lonely path of life
and though the final hour is at hand, now I know,
blessings can be veiled ironies!

   

One, who has lived his entire life
in dire poverty, how fitting it is
that the tragic end of his walk should be
steeped in such filthy abundance!


 

Revival

Revival

The Day begins with a throbbing pain in his heart,
last night his better half had run out of the wind
to breathe and sustain the blossoming of his love.
His first few steps are sluggish, hazy and confused,
like a thick foggy morning in late December
and he knows, the sun had set on him forever!

   

Brief autumn was the months of joyful completion,
it came and lingered for a while or two before
fading to the mossy annals of oblivion,
buried alive with no traces left above the ground!

   

Then the sudden onslaught of winter shocked the world,
each day became all frozen to its tender core,
the humble pen stopped bleeding and the blood ceased to flow,
that etched teary sadness and laughter on an empty page.

   

After many a month of such desolate emptiness,
another mighty blizzard came, howling wind blowing hard
but this time though the Day would lose his better half, his blood
would thaw and melt to flow and etch his tears and dreams again!

The Pessimist Talking

The Pessimist Talking

Still you’d say, death would not have been better
than this life of looking the other way,
of silent compromise with the devil
and perchance even worse! “But tomorrow…”
Yes, what this afternoon was yesterday;
that is how tomorrows will ever be
a past hope, an illusion in the end!

       

Still you’d root for friends over solitude,
as if our company and partners say
more of us than what we are underneath
and perchance even lie! “But a real friend…”
A wolf, hidden behind the face of man;
that is how all friends will turn out to be,
a promise, that was shattered in the end!

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A String of Escapades

A String of Escapades

So my love, do I walk away all defeated and resigned?
I could blame it all on my fate
but knowing I too ought to have a hand
in making life a string of escapades,
think I better keep these thoughts to myself!
   

I missed talking to you about my indecisiveness,
though I know, now is not the time or place
for such petty feelings, it is your time to grow
and be the Summer of abundance for the world;
the final days of Fall is on the previous page!
   

Is it I whose power lets my fingers fly on the board?
Is it I who makes my neurons construe
sensory stimuli the way they do?
I wish all these were dreams I’m having in my grave!

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A Petition To Posterity

A Petition To Posterity

We live in a strange time,
when pigs are more obscene than mass murder and rape,
when cows are more precious than human life,
when the fire of compassion and nirvana burns
all the different ones alive!
    

Perhaps the world is worshiping one God at last,
after toiling and shedding both our sweat and blood
for more than thirteen thousand years,
a God that ought to thrive on spreading fear
about people on the other side!
     

Perhaps the posterity will
charge our dead bones one day and justly too,
for atrocities against humankind,
in the name of a God painted more like a scorned shrew!

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