We Are, Both!

We Are, Both!

No,
please
do not shake your head

in kindled vehemence
we are not angels,
neither God!

As human beings with consciousness,
latent at birth and later
buried miles under
the mounds
of stories,
we are
both
good
and evil,
enlightened
and ignorant.
Our thoughts can be
both vicious and virtuous.
The contrast lies in our acceptance!

If knowledge does not admit her ignorance,
if virtues do not confess her evil thoughts,
and if light never meets the darkness
on the other side, the ignorance
overflows and the evil inside
in silence grows,
brought up by
our reluctance
to wake up and
open our eyes.
And evil, overgrown, lurks
in our subconscious minds,
as we live our conscious life
without a shred of conscience.
With only our virtues thoroughly
and consciously emphasized, the evil
permeates our thoughts and feelings about
all others, everyone, except the face we see
introspecting, or in an ordinary mirror on the wall!


Beauty, Amplified!

Beauty, Amplified!

“Where is she?”, a voice wailed inside my head.
“There she is!”, another, moments later, replied
in ecstasy and my pupils dilated
at her sight, haloed by the rainbow colored lights.

 

Indeed, she is far prettier than our prettiest dreams,
more beautiful than pure beauty can ever be,
for her other half, forever dark and unseen,
turns beauty to a feeling, mere eyes fail to see.

 

A feeling, reverberating across
our synapses, remaining lodged within
a few neural paths, waiting for a stimulus,
or a set of stimuli – sharp, blunt, serrating,
is better than a mere sight, quicker too
on the release of all the rest with Dopamine!

 

And beauty, when all pure and absolute
like that when with impurity she overflows,
is often only half as beautiful
as when she is in harmony with her darkness,
like knowledge that knows the depth of her ignorance…
Don’t you see, the most beautiful time of the day
is when darkness unites with the shimmering light,
once at dawn and once at the dying hour of the sun?


 

To Poets!

To Poets!

Dedicated to all the unpublished poems in the world.

 

Have you ever written a line,
as penetrating as those of Shelley,
a verse or two as sublime as Walcott’s?
Neither have I. Still you and I,
nevertheless, are poets of course,
perhaps of a different kind, or not!

 

Perhaps we are historians, but unlike
Herodotus or Thucydides, recording
atrocities and kingdoms of the bygone days,
we take snapshots of the now on a plate,
smeared grey with silver nitrate from the past
and hold it out against the future’s effervescent light!

 

Perhaps we are social critics as well,
but unlike Fareed Zakaria or Yuval
Harari, we want to keep it brief, we do not explain!
Perhaps we are like Florence Nightingale,
a statistician turned healer, or Keats,
an apothecary, healing the human souls instead!

 

Or maybe there is no reason at all,
that compels us to write, save that we are
madness incarnate, with countless thoughts buzzing in our heads
and emotions, by the name of hormones
flooding our hearts and until we unsheathe
our humble pens for blood and to bleed, we simply cannot rest!

 

But for every word that we write
there are always two or three we must hide,
and another bunch are buried underground,
like those pillars we do not see
traversing the visible structures around!
But they’re there, thankful in their thankless duties.

 

So, let us celebrate those words, unseen,
for without them, poetry could not have been
the iceberg that sank the Status Quo of Titanic!
And to all the heroes, unsung, who bled for writing it,
let my humbly audacious pen sing this unworthy song –
Hats off to you and your words, soar as high as you can, for as long!


 

Love Revisited

Love Revisited

Someone said it, and I remember who,
but when, I forgot. Was it yesterday,
or in my previous life, I cannot tell.
“You must love yourself first, before you can
truly love another soul.” Yes, I know
how vital loving oneself has become,
in today’s synthetic world, poisonous
and not just that, highly venomous too,
for it will so often bite, like a snake,
and the toxic thoughts will course through our veins,
returning to our lovelorn hearts and brains.
So, I must admit, loving oneself is
one of the ways. Is it the only one?

 

Human beings have a part of God, they say.
If that is so, we are part God within
and of course, part the human beast as well.
A beast that can murder and create, a beast,
who can both kill and make love, just for fun,
and do things, undreamt of in our philosophies!
Yet, we can choose, can we not, which of these
two, we shall cherish and nurture in life!

 

If we choose our Godly side, which is One,
and nourishing, let it grow to its bloom,
let it color our entire existence –
the human beast, its heart, brain and the godly soul
we do not need to love ourselves, any more
to love another human being, because –

 

“He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small;
For the dear God who loveth us,”
She made and loveth all!


17.07.2019

An Elegy for the Sons of Abraham

An Elegy for the Sons of Abraham

Dedicated to the Lives sacrificed/slaughtered,
around the world everyday

 

Finally, I could look into the eyes
of someone I would soon kill and rejoice,
feasting on his flesh and bones, cooked and fried!
How hard it was, you really want to know?
How hard it was for Abraham, when he
looked into the eyes of his eldest son,
before dragging him to the holy mound?
Oh! How absurdly fortunate I am,
being the eldest son of a Semite too,
that God had replaced the boy with a ram!
Or surely, two billion people every year
would have been deprived of an eldest son,
and the proverbial blackest sheep to blame!
Woe! When will these bellowing deaths be gone?