CHILDHOOD

Above the green grass, below the sun

Life’s just full of fun

When to have food

Depends on your mood

So far so good

This is childhood

Your mother cajoles but you sulk

You shiver under your father’s bulk

Cartoons and comics: you elate

Horror and tragedy you just hate

Cakes n’ pastries you snatch and grab

Chapatis: they are really drab

Alas! These days hardly last

They disappear really so fast

Larry, Harry and Bob

Are now engaged in a job

They are adults for good

No more childhood

Sep ‘93

The Sky at Our Feet

When we raise our vision to meet the sky

We may chance to see the solitary bird fly

Lonesome be it may but with glee it does soar

Stressing its sternum, it is airborne up and more

“What a creature”, our ancestors must have thought

“And what does it have that we have not?”

Through a brainstorm, all must have went

Decided, with ‘glue and feathers’, to experiment

When the brave soul have met with death

Other contemplators didn’t lose their breath

The recommenced with renewed vigour

Eventual success: a fruit of rigour

In 1903, two got it right

Wright as they were, two brothers bright

For a fifth of a minute and a score feet high

To success, never before, was anyone so nigh

Travel as we may, in a Concorde so neat

Each one tucked safely into his seat

Many an indifferent glutton, devouring his course meat

Seldom recalls those who brought the sky at our feet

Sep ‘94

His Nirvana: The Last Departure?

" Sacrifice and achieve “, claimed the prince;

No one possessed, none attempted it since.

This knowledge, The Truth no doubt,

Beneath the Bodhi it did sprout.

In screaming silence he sat sedate;

Into penance he unlocked: the mind's gate.

Was this Its duty? - It rushed in,

The truth was his as wasn't the sin?

The question that will intrigue till my last breath:

When this saintly soul shook hands with death,

Did Hs soul traverse its way to Single Union?

Or again into the form evolved from the simian?

Tomfoolery this isn’t, from grey it's begot;

Inquisitive I am, for there is one thing he sought.

This 'WANT' could have stopped INTEGRATION!

How? I'm ready for interrogation!

This ' ONE THING ' was His ' WANT ' for Nirvana.

Or didn't He even want this?

Then why did He live so, all amiss?

Answer me, this ignorance is no bliss.

Jan '95

CROW

Wearing forever a frown, with unseen crown

Is the dark crow: an everyday noun

Morning sight: you may detest

But will you find, if you explore your mind

Any reason unrest?

Call it a glutton why, when you do crave?

Is it pandemonic, when you excited rave?

Hideous, have you right to brand it thus?

No, ‘tis from divine omnibus

Dare you how to set scale divine?

Your darkness is but His shine

Think not He only make for your pleasure’s sake

Condemn not the Crow, be Lawrence to the ‘Snake’

June ‘95

BUD

Pon’ breathing throne, I voice unheard tone

All are but mine own

Monarch I am of this worldly zone

Return lost kingdom, with gall, I moan

Beware my potency, you’ve not yet known

Oh usurpers, who pride on thought

You are but a rapacious lot

While green does gradual abate

You will but find futureless fate

My potency is but unsurpassed

Mine absence, would you last?

Not you nor he, so salute me

For I am parent of all that will be

Dismantle me not, as I sway in rockery

You will but make an ugly mockery

Of God and His divine intention

It needs not mortal intervention

July 95

One that the Devil Fears

Countless millennia hence

Came the Dark Devil

To this breathing fence

Bearing perfusive peril

Hellishly breathing forth

With his tail he toyed

Then proceeded north

In state sang-froid

He came upon a figure

Obscured by smoky cloud

Juxtaposing with sardonic snigger

He shrieked far and loud

Disturbed, the figure raised head

To see Darkness sitting beside

With eyes scarlet-red

And twisted tail untied

“A rare form simian!”

Said the figure delighted

“Worth a divine million!”

A fortune had been sighted

With this, he caught the Devil’s tail

Satan struggled but in vain

And Darkness, whereupon, turned pale

Swooning, thus, in terrible pain

To this day, the Devil recounts

Decaying apace in ferreous bounds

To himself, shedding ceaseless tears

His encounter with the one that he fears

April ‘96

The Soul Speaks Out

Spare a thought for me, won't you?

For I am provider of joy anew!

Without me there is no song,

To me does the orchestra belong.

I am instrument of glory and despair,

Oh players play without a care.

I have no corner, bottom or top;

You see me go up, you see me drop.

You can't hold me in a sacrilege;

And ... don't you drive sharp wedge.

I am not born and I won't die,

I am one who won't listen to or tell a lie.

Mankind, my captive for an hour and a half,

Just as to a cow might be her sucking calf.

There are men who lead me towards their goal,

If literal, consequences take their toll.

Kick me and I won't complain,

But oh! I weep for the man slain.

Oh thinkers, you must endure the pain,

Only then will come the ecstasy in rain.

July ‘98