What if silence too is a script we conjure,
tapping into subconscious mind, befooling
ourselves, as we sidestep the truth of what is …
bemused by ego?
Trapped in swamps of dark desires, bound by beliefs,
how else can we exit this matrix unless
thoughts cease, that thus grace invoked, our soul’s eye sees …
noumena within?
Spring is in full bloom
And the festival of colours
Is letting loose the wild side
Of the young and old in India
Drowning old hatreds to start anew
With coloured water guns and balloons
Sprays and powdered colours are splashed
On all and on those who try to escape
People attire in new pristine clothes
For its palette to be more colourful
Spring is in full bloom
And the festival of bullets
Is letting loose the wild side
Setting afire newer hatreds
By the hard liners in Brussels
Explosions and gun shots at the airport
Blasting's and blowing off the smoky roofs
There are screams with wounded and dead
Lying splattered in streams of vermillion
A clear invitation to open war
Spring is in full bloom
For the festival of bullets and colours
Befooling ego's versus fooling with others
In one world there is joy and a carefree holiday
In another world god through the devils
Pins down those he wishes to carry
The wounded themselves are half dead with shock
The tussle between the good and the bad remind us of
His scales that keep dangling a change between
Planned joys and unplanned gory deaths
Balveen Cheema
March 23, 2016
Mr. Breast Cancer
Mr. Breast Cancer is an avid traveller
On wings of his own he flies anon
A nomad he is, restless in nature
Bivouacking in earthly goddesses
Lives close to their ruby pink hearts
Listening to their musical beats
The doctors not know his elusive habits
Sometimes visible sometimes invisible
They use a bait and fish him out
But Mr. Breast Cancer slyly winks
Playing hide and seek
Befooling the scientists
His hunger pangs uncontrollable
Scavenging the loveliest
No better place for a voyeur
Than corroding their breasts
Rummaging through their nodes
Their bosoms he spoils
Their crowns he pilfers
Their spirits he empties
Leaves them to be epitaphed
Guffaws at feminine vulnerability
Leering at the next new babe
Armouring to fresher newer battlegrounds
FIFTH
Balveen Cheema
September 18, 2015
I kept waiting,
You didn't turn up,
Why so ?
I was in tears,
You could not see,
Why so ?
My heart bled,
You didn't bother,
Why so ?
I was in depression,
You laughed at me,
Why so ?
I was drowning deep,
You just watched,
Why so ?
I keep asking,
No answers?
Why so ?
I was befooling myself,
You were taking digs at me,
Why will you answer ?
Do I still need ??
Written on 11/7/14
Human,
A defeated commander,
Failed to protect,
Human civil rights.
Women and children,
Or innocent are his targets.
Seeking a shelter,
In the nest of a devil shelter,
When he doesn’t tolerate his neighour,
And dreaming peace,
To sacrifice life,
Under a logo of,’ A holy message’.
For achieving a heaven dream,
And befooling his master,
On the name of God,
When his devil spirit awakens,
And he sacrifices innocent Birds and animals,
To protect his God worship.
That is always rewarding him,
And really questioning on his status,
Are you really a human?
An owner of thoughts,
An owner of bloodshed,
An owner of cheat,
Perhaps,
Love never suits to him.
He was born for the purpose of Devil Spirit.
He never trusted in any God,
Bargain is only his motive.
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