Monday, February 20, 2017
Thursday, December 22, 2011
the invasion
the invasion
1
peacock
was preening his pretty plumes
when a rainbow sprouted
from behind the hills.
he stuttered in delight
and spread out his feathers;
a thousand rainbows bloomed.
he was dancing……………
suddenly-
they came;
chopped him into pieces
and threw his flesh
to a golden eagle.
2
vendor
beneath the banyan shade
was selling tender coconuts.
cool and soothing, the juice
of his lush green lands
went down thirsty throats.
sweat trickled down his
corrugated forehead:
he was smiling……….
suddenly-
they came;
bent his ebony back
and corked him inside
a pepsi bottle
3
youth
with its erudite looks
looking weird with
soft beard and glassy eyes.
neruda erupted from
tobacco tarred lips.
marx and marquez
shuttled across
cafe table tops:
they were dicussing……….
suddenly-
they came;
shaved off the young beards,
rubbed the face with old spice,
and filled their brains with
green-card dreams.
4
comrade
in his ram shackled rented room
was dusting dialects
with a red linen rag.
the bust of a baldie
with a short chin beard
stoop atop his shelf,
a streak of verdigris
had spread on that
prole-forehead
“the bust has lost its lusture”
he was thinking……….
suddenly-
they came;
mocked him,
tickled his armpits
with a sickle tip,
hammered the bust to pieces
burned the volumes of das capital
and renamed him
capital das.
5
the invasion had begun!
6
[the song of carla hills]
madame carla
tra la la
she’s out for trips
around the world.
see how she trims
the world.
“your history n’ mystery
its bullshit, its junk
your age n’ heritage
oh boy, its punk.”
madame carla
tra la la
she stops to drink
cocoa-cola
“you belong to us
your sons belong to us.
your sun n’ moon n’
skies n’ stars
they all belong to us.
even your thoughts belongs to us
your bread belongs to us
your breath belong to us
your life before
and after death
belong to us, to us.
even your dreams belong to us.
your words belong to us
your verse belong to us
this world, that world
next world, third world,
they all belong to us.
whole world belong to us.”
madame carla
tra la la
what she says
is law
“what you hear n’
what you see,
what you write n’
what you read,
what you think n’
what you feel,
are intellectual property
of uncle sam
the sole mighty.
pay royalty
to uncle sam
he’s almighty
he’s almighty”
with horror n’ chills
(sd)
carla hills
7
campus-
rock n roll n pop
are out,
break is in and
rap is here to stay.
girls are busy
burning their bra’s
boys are busy
eating pizzas.
“yehi hay right choice baby”
8
hostel walls are
infested with
offset-printed poster
rambo, with bulging biceps
and bloodshot eyes
aims his bazooka
straight at your face
madonna, with pouting lips
and colossal tits
winks at you wickedly.
up above still remains
the torn remains
of a red head band,
green green beret
and the bright brown eyes of
che!
9
streets are full of
sycophants
and yankee-fans
screaming screaming screaming
“kill the bolsheviks,
kiss the capitalists,
red is good if only it has
blue and white with it.
stars are good if only they have
stripes to go with them.”
10
a torn tricolour peeps
out its battered head
from the garbage can
and weeps, weeps, weeps.
11
signs of resentment
have started appearing
here and there.
effigies with top hats
are set ablaze.
cow-dung drips from
marlboro hoardings.
street urchins are urinating
on cowboy faces
scribblings in charcoal
sprawls across the walls
“america,
your liberty is just a statue!”
12
“we shall overcome………”
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
dry days
dry days
mondays are mundane…
the tom sawyer syndrome.
snails on watch dials.
the sloth inside
loathing about
slowness.
bubbles of
nothingness
ferments
inside the distillery
of stillness
all days are
mondays
Monday, March 8, 2010
hate summit
hate summit
the hall is filled
with holy men.
the dais, crammed
with deities
maestros of mayhem
are orchestrating
a phoney symphony
green and saffron
spotlights are on.
and then…
out of nowhere
they appear,
the gods of war!
avoiding
the eyes of cameras,
they wink at each other
wickedly
and then…
they embrace
and start to shower grace
upon the human race
amidst all this cacophony
devil descends from heaven.
he, who else,
is the master of ceremony.
after fluttering a white dove
and a black raven.
he takes over the show
“friends, moron, holy men
lend me your fears
for i have come
to bury peace
and not to praise it…”
the crowd goes crazy,
they cheer in full frenzy.
devil wags his tail
in response
and starts to announce
“this years prize
for peace
goes to…
(pause)
unfortunately
the prize for the peace
goes to…..
humanity
but…..
fortunately,
it will be given
posthumously.”
(curtain)
outside,
the devotees
had started
fratricide.
the hall is filled
with holy men.
the dais, crammed
with deities
maestros of mayhem
are orchestrating
a phoney symphony
green and saffron
spotlights are on.
and then…
out of nowhere
they appear,
the gods of war!
avoiding
the eyes of cameras,
they wink at each other
wickedly
and then…
they embrace
and start to shower grace
upon the human race
amidst all this cacophony
devil descends from heaven.
he, who else,
is the master of ceremony.
after fluttering a white dove
and a black raven.
he takes over the show
“friends, moron, holy men
lend me your fears
for i have come
to bury peace
and not to praise it…”
the crowd goes crazy,
they cheer in full frenzy.
devil wags his tail
in response
and starts to announce
“this years prize
for peace
goes to…
(pause)
unfortunately
the prize for the peace
goes to…..
humanity
but…..
fortunately,
it will be given
posthumously.”
(curtain)
outside,
the devotees
had started
fratricide.
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