9/11

Four weddings and a funeral

Or four funerals and a wedding

Life goes on in much the

Same certain ways of uncertainties.

Flaying arms and rushing feet

Deconstructing passive signified life.

Here and there periodic

And unpatterned sequences

Jolt unsignified life into

A dumblike stupor.

 Severed arms flaying in inertia

Burnt limbs lying inert

Certain voices claim

Achievement of successful deconstruction of life.

We celebrate. We mourn.

And then, ablution in

The sea of forgetfulness.

Life goes on in much the

Same uncertain ways of certainties.

Today's Icarus cannot dream of flying.

Too many fires are burning

In hearth and pyre.

A Soliloquy

Tomorrow, tomorrow and another tomorrow
Days shoot by at a jet speed
Rushing towards the last syllable
Of unrecorded time.
And all our yesterdays
Have been carelessly tossed away
Into the rusty dust can in the corner.
Out, out, leisure and rest.
Life's but a challenging game
Where fighters jostle for
A little sheltering space
Unaware that it will end abruptly.
It is a tale told by unfeeling
False fathers in authority
Full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing.

A Naught called Life

Narrow wide winding and straight
We have roads too many
But no path to take us anywhere.
Hands feet and heads are on their way
But no man to be seen anywhere.
Hustle bustle talk and chatter
But no words to be heard around
Ear-splitting deafening noise
But pin-drop silence all around.
Nothing  nothing  naught is there
Eyes with no vision in there
Throbbing heart and breathing lungs
With no light and stifling air
Living beings walking about
Alas there's no life around.

Albatross

A pair of eyes haunts my soul
Midst bullets flying off magazines
Arson Fire,
And lovers walking hand in hand.
My skeleton within me
My guts and liver
Who know the me in me
Only too well
Writhe and shake, and fritter.
A pair of eyes scans my soul
Unrecognizably white
On the giant TV screen.
It is the cause, it is the cause...
My soul
Screams out at the pair of eyes.
On the mirror I see...
About my neck was hung
An Albatross.

Thoughts on a Lazy Afternoon

Cause for the effect
Or effect of the cause
Infused
In a concoction
Of oblivious glee.
Mirrors batons
Guns and roses
Arrayed
In a calculation
Of practiced skill.
Cause of the effect
Or effect for the cause
Lopsided
Muddled
In a conglomeration
Of the bonded and the free.

A Divine Image

5. A Divine Image

The city lies in a disquiet slumber

Jolted out of sleep

By shattering gunshots

At a nearby distance.

The morning hangover

Intensifies to a seizure

With tasteless tea and

Petrifying newspapers.

At the mall a little girl

With fluorescent eyes

Grasping mommy's little finger

With a chocolate-cream hand

Is little no more.

And across green fields rushing past

Trains chugging in a

Daily monotonous harmony

Are dissembled in a second by a bored adult child

Seeking thriftless gains.

Life is wondrous

With surprises and starts

Man assuming gigantic proportions

To create, and to destroy.