Who is Listening?

No one heard my consequential query, No one offered an accidental remedy. No one screams at the apocalyptic ending. No one understands a bearable smile. No one is worried about rhetoric, No one needs an intimate cuddling, No one is listening. No one. No.

No one saw the fractured dawn breaking, No one felt the trembling earth beneath. No one watches as cities crumble slowly, No one notices when flowers breathe their last. No one questions the wisdom of silence, No one searches for answers in the void, No one is watching. No one. No.

No one touched the boundary of existence, No one crossed the threshold of our pain. No one reaches for a hand in darkness, No one holds the fragments of our days. No one carries the weight of remembrance, No one shoulders what we cannot name, No one is touching. No one. No.

No one spoke when truth demanded witness, No one whispered when lies grew tall and wide. No one sings the hymns of lost tomorrows, No one mourns what quietly disappears. No one utters the unspoken question, No one voices what we fear to know, No one is speaking. No one. No.

 

 

 

Filthy crevice

I lookout of my mind
Through the patinated gorge
To see the war of dreams
Scrambling the pulse of time!

The emptiness of oceans
The infatuation of eyes
The shuddering of rivers
Altogether, design the me inside me.

The hills are still alive
The frills are full active
With the hefty mirth inside
In the world of shadows

Breathless rapture in me
Allure the eloquent words
In this dreadful gaps
Of these germs of the world

Wired statues

In the middle of the rainstorm
A pair of golden eyes swirled around me

And I became a statue today
A statue with infinite blood shreds
On this honey coloured body
A statue which incinerated
The greenness of all love –wars!

I became a towering figure
I was wired, tired and feared.
I got reflected in the deep blue sea
Pain of the past years
Drummed down into my
Oscillating weak shoulders

The shrunken images portrayed
The silhouettes before the statues’ transcient eyes
All statues hibernate,
They sleep in the curls of the sea-shell chimes
They conceal the dreams of millions
Of embryos
When will these statues wither away
Into the oozing silence, once more….

Rain Mapping

Eternal tranquility merges

In the mountain peeks…..

And the grief mantles the pinnacle.


The joviality of the soul

Dissolves into the rhythmic rime

And touches the zenith…


The rivulet strings tunes the tones

Of the undying mystic resonances


To flow into the five senses of life.

Enduring pulses of death and birth


Lay its trampling foot steps

On the life bed of the seasonal expressions.


At the enchantments of the

Anonymous deity’s splendour,

Malicious instruments reverberate.

Matted-hair-crown quivers…

Great mountainous composition evolves..

And the dense woods vibrate.

All Epic woes thaw out and amass

And spring valleys burst out.


Who names this incessant descend

Of tear drops rain …rain…?

Who calls the chillness of conscious spirits

Of all lives, rain…rain…?


Standing near the wall side

As a compassionate shower of cloud trees

Seeing tiny dreams in the hands

Of tender green sprout outs.


Recalling the nuptials of jackals

In the rainy- sunny pedestal.


Feeling the kiss of burning lips

Before the bedroom door is closed.


Weaving hundreds of golden saplings

In the echoes of the fields.


Chanting the mantras of nature

Like a mother’s disquiet to the tender tulsi.


Creating love streams for the crystal fishes

In the scattering memories of love.


Portraying the rising pictures binding

The tales of midways and anklets.


Rendering the antique songs

Of the thulavarsha clouds

And ancient mythical stories


Trickling of the blackish drops

Of the bowed deep sighed huts…..


Distracting the deep street slumber

Of the vagabound in the old torn out sack.


Erasing the awful odours

By the fragrant flow of aromas


Who named this spell of laughter

Rain…rain?


Along with the far-flung tempest

Absorbing the sorrow of the forests.


Revolving around the earth, writhe

In Lightening…. land slides and yelling…


Turning the cries of gushing red waves

Into pristine ocean blooms.


Mounting as a flying bird

In the burning flames of the sword roar.


Burning the grandiose fingers

In Earthly cadence of the wondered bosom.


Spreading the rustling of the leaves around

And accomplishing the speed of the chariot

And a celestial grandeur.


Becoming the uproarious shouting

Of one crore untied horses.


Changing to a murderous dancer

Devastating all the cities.


Turning to a ferocious whirlpool

Devouring all sandbanks.


Who called this insane flood,

Pour….rain…rain….?


Who spelled this revengeful

Deadly surge rain….rain….?


Saluting and crying at the sand bed

Which keeps the corpse of the dreary river


Intertwining the past, present, future

And all spaces in a single wet thread


Making out that rain

Was a wave in some ocean…sometime…..

To take in…. rain is in me and

To understand the Everlasting relation

I am drenched in this rain

Standing on this Sun scorched paths

I am soaked in this rain


Standing on the steppingstone of this life

Facades of all Self arrogance,

On the back of self pride, dissolves in the rain

I am walking on this road

Sowing the grains of virtues again….


Finally, I’m a unique silent tomb,

as the rain vanish

Finally, rain to the vacuum of the ultimate sky

as me Fades away…