Thursday, December 22, 2011

the invasion

the invasion



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……………


they came;

chopped him into pieces

and threw his flesh

to a golden eagle.



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……….


they came;

bent his ebony back

and corked him inside

a pepsi bottle



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……….


they came;

shaved off the young beards,

rubbed the face with old spice,

and filled their brains with

green-card dreams.



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


“the bust has lost its lusture”

he was thinking……….


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.


the invasion had begun!


[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


“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


carla hills



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”


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



streets are full of


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.”


a torn tricolour peeps

out its battered head

from the garbage can

and weeps, weeps, weeps.


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


your liberty is just a statue!”


“we shall overcome………”

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