Where are your arms hidden in disguise,
you are our path to freedom and pride.
The spaces are taken by the celebrated and hated,
where is the love which given is for unborn,
take us with free love,
and deadly flight of widowed dove.
Stay within my spaces,
open your native places.
Understand with an open heart,
war is just an ugly form of art,
like a poison dart will eat your freedom,
burn down your home,
devastate everything we grow,
and everyone you ever knew or know,
will turn to dust under rusted nails,
and busted cemetery gates.
Never underestimate the power of one another,
with each other and the games we play,
because some day will dig our own grave.
Some would say, it's just another day,
another foul play, just go ahead and pray.
Roof shingles
are tossed like confetti in a Banshee wind.
She says it's going to be a bad weather day,
the green screen behind her wobbles
as a gust of torrential hailstones
rocks the studio,
yet her smile stays bright and perky.
The wind keeps churning through sparrows
and shattering windows. Tornados
spring up out of nowhere,
devastate homes, then ravish cows
as an afterthought.
Through a plasma screen
the attractive lady distracts my eyes,
She grins knowingly
I grin back, as we share a moment,
elsewhere, death strikes randomly
with a made for TV toothy banality.
Storms of platitudes continue to numb
and transfix.
I don't know why some must die
and others must keep watching.
I can only predict
that the weather girls will survive
to keep us informed
even as our living rooms implode.
It's been three months since the day when you died.
You were a wonderful dog and that can't be denied.
I remember the day when I bought you.
When you died, it was a terrible thing to go through.
I became a lucky man when your former owner sold you to me.
You were my Chihuahua and I bought you on August 18, 2020.
When you died, it was something that was sure to devastate.
'You were my dog and that's something I'll always appreciate.
[Dedicated to Hazel who died three months ago today on December 9, 2023]
Roof shingles
are tossed like confetti in a Banshee wind
She says it's going to be a bad weather day,
the green screen behind her wobbles
as a gust of torrential hailstones
rocks the studio,
yet her smile stays bright and perky.
The wind keeps churning through sparrows
and shattering windows. Tornados
spring up out of nowhere,
devastate homes, then ravish cows
as an afterthought.
Through a plasma screen
the buxom lady distracts my eyes,
She grins knowingly
I grin back, as we share a moment,
meanwhile elsewhere, death strikes randomly
with a made for TV toothy banality.
Storms of platitudes continue to numb
while they transfix.
I don't know why some must die
and others must keep watching.
I can only predict
that weather girls will survive
to keep us informed
even as our living rooms implode.
I thought I’d have to leave my favored spot
and go inside this warm and humid day.
My pleas for respite must have been perceived,
for Nature sent a lilting, soothing breeze.
My car took out the worst day of the year.
I shivered violently while trudging home.
Then, welcomed by my loving family
and fireplace flames, I felt so richly blessed.
But Nature’s Air and Fire aren’t always mild.
When they unite, they devastate with fear,
destruction, and dismay. Wildfires will spread,
for many miles encouraged by high winds,
destroying lives and homes. Recovery
will come quite slowly, if it comes at all.
My narrow hands made minarets
Of castles in the sky
The phantom figures that I traced
Were but for just my eyes
I did not draw upon the sand
For fear the rising tide
Would devastate the effort
And then – what left – have I?
I did not sketch in quarters
The public would review
For fear their introspection
Would taint my simple view
And what my slender finger drew
Upon the canvas blank
With such utmost authority
Took just my breath away –
Alone I viewed my handiwork
Took stock of every line
Internalized the ephemeral
Nature of the rhyme
Which set the spirit of the thought
Which grasped the shades of earth
And shaped my castles in the air
In minarets of verse –
From when we first met, We set to get wet
The spark made us connect, Yet,
There you go and fret, Set to get wrecked
Reject.
Insecure,
I told you before, You're no chore
Always wanted more, Brought it to the fore
This done before, You became insecure.
From when we first talked, Walked
Opened up our thoughts, Sharing reports
Intimate lyrics, left me reeling, Concealing,
The truths not revealing.
I told you you're worthy, Maybe a little bit pervy
The kink made a chink, We had no time to think
Took me to the brink, Sink,
Not knowing what you think.
Finally,
You took us to the top, Stopped, dropped
No reason to date, Twist the hands of fate
Create hate or to devastate mate!
When creatures fight, it’s often quite
An unexpected thing.
In fact, the sight just might invite
Observers to the ring.
Today, by chance, I got a glance
Of sparrows on the ground.
Their angry dance was not romance
But fury quite profound.
They’d alternate to aggravate
Each other as they fought,
To dominate or devastate,
The outcome that they sought.
With every peck on chest or neck
They sharpened the attack,
Without a speck of guilt to check
If both would make it back.
I couldn’t stay to see if they
Would somehow call a truce,
But that display was Nature’s way,
Much more than Mother Goose.
I resurrect you in every dream—
the coolness of my pillow warming
at the thought of you—
there are tears there too
and a love that never wavered—
it only grew where grief meant
to devastate it.
I find you there,
in the realm between reality
and eternity—with a hot
welcome I cry out in surprise—
“I never thought I would see you again!”
But I am here—every night, every dream,
hoping you will remember that it is in
every dusk that I mean to love you,
and in every dream that you mean
to live with me—every day you die
within me.
When I open my eyes
and start the morning’s musings,
I wonder if you remember what
it took in me to find you—I’m not ashamed
of you—I believe in you and I
trust in you, and I love you—
and a life without you is
a life I will gift to another.
War
is raw
attempt
to strike
a solution
Bombs, Missiles
Nuclear payload
can kill en masse
But
can never kill
patriotic spirit
Fusion, fission
are powerful
innovations
can devastate matter
but have limitation of
Space, Intensity
Nationalist Spirit
has infinite realm
No bomb can
decimate infinity
Nationalist Spirit is
most powerful energy
much ahead of
power of electrons
First Bomb
devastated Hiroshima
but Japanese spirit
could not be killed
Japan has since risen
is more powerful
is a strong economy
Many wars
have been fought
in name of peace
but Peace is still elusive
War only creates
political, social cobwebs
difficult to unravel
mapping further war
War
is business
thriving on disputes
killings, insecurity
War is also
manufactured
like ammunition
to earn profits
Its pity
UN can't pass
a resolution
in favour of
No War
It's no good
to kill humans
then rush with
Humanitarian aid
It's senseless
to have law
for murder
when massacre
is non-punishable
Hypocrisy
has to end
before
World ends
____________________
@Dr Hitendra Mehta
APARTHEID REGIME IS LONG PAST
BLACK SOUTH AFRICAN WOMAN SUFFERED DEARLY UNDER OPPRESSION
SHE GOT LIBERATED IN 1994 OR SHOULD I SAY SHE GOT POLITICALLY LIBERATED
WHEN WE CAST OUR FIRST VOTES WHICH LET TO THE INAUGURATION OF THE FIRST BLACK PRESIDENT NELSON MANDELA
HOWEVER,BEING LIBERATED ONLY MEANT DEMOCRATICALLY
TO THIS DAY,WE STILL NOT LIBERATED FROM THE SHACKLES OF DISEASE WHICH HAS CLAIMED THE LIVES OF SO MANY AND STILL CONTINUES TO DEVASTATE FAMILIES AND COMMUNITIES AT LARGE
INTIMACY HAS BEEN ENGULFED WITH SO MANY BOUNDARIES
FEAR HAS BEEN INSTILLED IN EACH AND EVERYONE OF US
YOU CANT HELP WONDERING IF TOMORROW ,YOU WILL BE THE ONE OF THE CASUALTIES OF THE ENORMOUS MONSTER WITHIN US AND SUBSEQUENTLY A STATISTIC
YOU LOOK YOUR CHILDREN IN THEIR EYES
THE ONLY THING YOU CAN DO IS PRAY AND LIVE FOR THE MOMENT
THE REST YOU LEAVE IT IN GODS HANDS
INDEED ,WE ARE LIVING IN THE TIMES OF NO POUND AT ALL
The arid air and husky hot breath
Gives a sickly feeling in the sandy stretch
Of silvery lines between heaps and depth ;
Vultures preying on the carrion wretch ;
Endless journey through the unguiding desert,
Choking dryness and frenzied mirages beyond -
All devastate to break down and only hurt ;
The scared soul excited, invokes the bond
Between Divinity and itself for a way out ,
And ends up in a frustrating bout
Hermits and sages chose secluded a place
Where everything breathed and sensed well
Within the bounds of order and grace ;
They found what they sought in the dell ;
Tiny, tidy things in communion structure
The plasm and the essence of being
viable ;
Conflict, coercion and hostility fracture
The line and spine of corpus pliable ;
Vastness is not just ample to lure ,
If it bears not the ethos of life pure.
I wanted to get to know her,
she thought that meant date,
maybe in time or maybe a mate,
she thought she would make me wait,
work harder and show her I'm not fake,
but she didn't get to know me to my face,
she thought she automatically held a place,
and started to treat me like I'm a disgrace,
telling these stories of me not looking great,
trying to get me in trouble for her mistakes,
thinking it is okay to treat me second rate,
slowly I looked at her knowing just hate,
she is not a person I like or relate,
toxic obnoxious and likes to devastate ,
abusing her position all up in my space,
run Forest run distance to create,
getting away where she hasn't a place,
she's angry at me said I used then separate,
now I stay far away, my great escape
not worthy of dating, not worth a mate,
for she was but a basket, a basket case
Why must diverse native cultures clash
Like titans in the arenas of yesteryear,
Lessons of the past centuries unlearned
While unthinkable horrors, senseless wars,
Continue unabated to devastate the weak
While the strong greedily abscond proudly,
Claiming a hollow victory at the expense
Of humanity and her promise of plenty.
written August 25, 2021
Strolling along the tooth-track,
I lose my vibrant way in the *Black Forest.
Jackfruit flesh is tempting.
But there’s a hell beyond the heaven.
I fall into the ravine of fatigue
from the crest of *Mysore Pak.
Kidneys and their cousins wilt.
Drugs devastate my inland.
Sugary desires die before my mouth.
Yet how long do I have to wait,
watching the interplanetary mission
and wondering at the Big Bang?
First published in The Literary Hatchet.
*Black Forest – a chocolate cake
Mysore Pak – an Indian sweet
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