Month: May 2012

An Emptiness

Ain’t got no feeling
Ain’t feel no longing,
Ain’t got no passion
Ain’t got no mission
Ain’t got no friend
Ain’t got no ground,
Ain’t got a song
Ain’t got a throng
Ain’t got any fire
Ain’t got any ire
Ain’t got a tear
Ain’t but a fear
Ain’t any move,
Ain’t a bit of love.

Office Groups

Pareto performance,

Eighty twenty ratio,

Minority performers struggle,

Do most work,

Networked non performers win,

Cry babies obtain booties,

They shout hoarse of heavy work,

Reluctant to share their undeserved spoils,

Wifi guilt inducing bonuses,

Flattery pays in hordes,

Colonization of spoils,

Imperialist centers of power ,

They do serve self needs,

The others endure misdeeds.

Revisiting my old home…

My old house, a home then,
In my mind memories flood
Of another year, sweet muse,
Weekends of short shrifts ,
Calves, cats and cups of tea,
Of untiring dicta by elders,
Of sly curiosities of young,
Of neighbors’ indifference
Fear of lanky, haughty, lenders,
Hoping death of debts,
Praying for pelf,
Yester grandeur,
Spurned, shy loves,
Rain water gushes,
Dreams in reams,
Barefoot realities,
Kindled thoughts,
All that I now recognize,
The tamarind tree,
Sadder than before,
On seeing me, a tear
Of compassion
Offering me renewed shade
Me, now a weary stranger
To my own house,
A tired traveler
Dispossessed.

A day’s thoughts

Listlessness on a Tuesday afternoon-
Worrying more about what could be,
Than about what is for the day done,
All my life is a worrisome, long,strife,
More of high pressured dread in blood,
About a probable recession, joblessness,
As still as life’s circle movement could,
Some steep climb, pause, breathlessness,
Towards a wearier mountain heated red,
Then that smile beaming eternity,
A return to the shadows of plains,
The meandering thought of nativity,
A return home to backwater rains,
To narrate to them ripples all my strains.

The Tigress’ Eyes

Black, silent forest: an un-trudged footpath,
Cautioned, dread of the tigress on a warpath,
Me, an asylum seeker, attracted like a moth,
To fire, lit futile seeking to scare a behemoth,
In this abstemious, copious land of her birth
Which she guards in zealous faith
Me: she sees a trespasser to her hearth
An immigrant, fearful in every breath,
I see her like, am awed of death,
She prances, pugs in pendulum, anger froth,
In her camouflaged splendor, emitting stealth
Hear her silent roar echoing off every tree on growth,
I freeze in fright: fiery, furious, gaze so close at length,
She relents: now compassion in those eyes; she lets me pass forth.

Existentialism

I was born brought dead at birth,
Cordless cries were then activated,
Since then have I lived to good girth,
Health clubs have not much helped,
Life is so much of fuller blown mirth,
Muller even now has a doubt
Whether I exist for food or truth,
Yet oft times I have wondered,
This is not just about breath,
To myself I have reflected, intoned,
There is indeed a lack of depth,
Shallower waters keep me afloat,
Appear greater sense is in death,
Neither breadth nor intense of date.