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Rajarshi Keshari Poem
There will be no recognition, no epiphanies
No intellectual solidarity, no saving grace
So without further adieu, let us speak free,
A clarion call to smash this ludicrous machine that churns out poverty and wipes away our identities
The apparatus of violent repression.
The rich partake in the reckless and unrestrained celebration of the exploitation of the less fortunate.
A carrot is dangled and the people are ready to be thrown in this machine.
It makes the rich wealthy and the toiling men into fuel.
More men are made and more fuel is burnt but not all are burnt, some die as they are discarded
For they don't burn as hot
and the machine is renowned for its brilliant plumes of smoke as only those who light up the best, are picked
So we must burn those men that rule us instead, for we have been told they are the best.
Yet another bothersome group we must denounce - the tide of grey faceless men
"In these times those happy and carefree,
I find are mere liars
Or They have gone senile, brainwashed, to be served to the ruling thugs
Like mutton, or poultry.
The people are faceless,
Limping through the cold,
the fascists parade them naked
The ones left with faces are made to erase them
As hope departs, i cease to care as i make a run but the senile mass grab me
At the cusp of possible escape
At end of the tunnel
Im dragged back to be eaten alive.
The people have succumbed to the commands of their parasitic masters.
these masters will go to work on them
Putting a smile on the faceless masses
The Grey lumps of flesh will now remain complicit
to the ceaseless evil that occurs in plain sight."
Copyright © Rajarshi Keshari | Year Posted 2018
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Rajarshi Keshari Poem
You dont have to be moved,
we are already in a revolution
A different kind, one where futures are decided on couches in front of the television.
One which undoes it all
Implanting the seeds that usurp
men and women; both old and young along with their hot blooded ideals.
I make a imaginery toast to a time when we raised fists in unison.
While I watch in much intrigue and an impending sense of horror,
a tide wiping the minds of the free of all that is red
With the sterility of modern celluloid fiction.
The profane fantasies consisting of comic book superheroes fighting crime.
Morphed, rudimentary ideas of justice.
Just another vulgar display of neo liberal superficiality.
Meanwhile my mind wanders far away
To the remote and torrid jungles of nowhere
My comrade mothers her child
who is to be weaned off of her bossom,
It Blissfully titters at the breathtaking landscape now under seige.
As she cuddles her child, her eyes peer into the vastness.
Her heroes are dead, but not her resilience.
Copyright © Rajarshi Keshari | Year Posted 2018
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Rajarshi Keshari Poem
How do you view yourself?
Steady gaze that drags you into the puddle.
The rains have unleashed what remains underneath the facade of metropolitan dazzle.
Puddles black as the pupils that gaze into the sewers,
Bodies descend into the horrors
Ammonia and methane, lungs that burn and smoke that becomes the breathe of life
Lives that await nothing but the blessing of death.
To scavenge the spiteful wastes of a society in haste,
A society that strangles its children,
Contamination and disease
Burnt crops and pain
Suicide harvest
The baskets of shame
And no better in the forests
Lie there evermore horrors
An adivasi caught in death's silence
Under the boots of the green menace
Forest and mineral,
Cages and prisoners,
Extra judicial murders,
Steeped in tradition of
Rape, loot and plunder, the culture of hindustan.
Where bullets are exchanged and the grip on the stones are loosened,
as they roll down when dropped,
So do the bodies.
the wails of wives and mothers,
Of daughters, of grandmothers begin to fill the sky,
the martyrs who are now sons of an echoe far and beyond.
Where ruby red drops fall on the snow,
Winter in the valley where the stench of the dead meet the resilience of the living
Yet every death only screams the victory of this echo,
The echo that will engulf us all
The echo of 'azaadi' long into the night
An incendiary chant of the people who will rise, out of the gutters, out of the forest,
And shall rise out of the valley of death and out of the shackles of the farms,
Free from the death grip of the land lords, free from the bullets of the uniformed assasins.
Free to hoist the emblazoned red into the sky
to usher in a new world, to shatter the old to annhilate the beasts that have so far reigned supreme.
Copyright © Rajarshi Keshari | Year Posted 2018
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Rajarshi Keshari Poem
It was under summer's gaze,
The story of undiscovered possibilities ensued.
Never minding the leap of faith I had taken;
I forcefully tell myself
that it was only yesterday.
But two years have passed since
It would have been a different tale
Had I been a man of greater conviction,
a tale of a more vibrant picture would be told.
Hot simmering emotions consume me
I am no longer the face I try to present.
My mind fizzles out but not like a celebratory bottle of champagne.
Instead she lays witness to a torrid boiling stew of the inner conflicts which I choose to ignore.
A love so stagnant, yet so volatile that it rockets to the surface and
Rattles the lid of my rationale.
But i decide not to wear the colours of love painted on these sleeves.
Let my constant pining not obstruct her path.
If we were meant to unite then let the universe tie those unattainable threads.
Leave me be for now, I shall silently pay homage to her breathtaking aura from a safe distance.
Now and then she becomes the physical manifestation of a poem that has lingered in my conscience.
I steal from one of tagore's verses;
"Mayabono biharini"
The quintessential essence of an idea nesting quietly within the realms of my psyche
"A wandering doe of the enchanted forest of my deepest dreams,
I try to steal a fleeting glance, a pursuit bereft of all reason.
Let her exist in hindsight,
I play my flute, converging my melody to her mind and soul
Defying the bounds of all outcomes.
Shimmering in the gusts of monsoon
Ever so startled by the roar in the skies
She becomes restless evermore.
I shall veil my affliction
In the bonds of seperation
Tying a rope destined to be undone
Bereft of all reason. "
These Lines that resonate with the throes of my secret passion
Immortalised in the transcendent poetry of Tagore.
Copyright © Rajarshi Keshari | Year Posted 2018
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Rajarshi Keshari Poem
Did time betray the one weilding the sickle or was it the drones in the sky?
Were the hammers not forged to fight bullets
Were my bullets not the same as the one that tore through me?
You who were garbed in rich silk
Did you trample on the hands that reached for the skies.
You who quoted my verses in strife
Did you not raise a finger and let the blooming petals die.
You who caved in, did you not love me to let me go by?
Copyright © Rajarshi Keshari | Year Posted 2018
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Rajarshi Keshari Poem
Too tame are the songs to my ears
So i concoct the lines i want to hear
I have put the story of a world in a song
A world untouched and devoid of the mundane
Infusing in it, the inferno of trial and error
I pretend that our tale is an intricately woven plot connecting with the '' white dot pearlescent stars"
a magical crescendo of emotional turmoil
And overwhelming fits of joy.
A tale written in a maze inside yet another maze.
running inside these paths, cutting through the thin lines that separate the dimensions of the flesh from the light. linking me to the eternal void of these surroundings as i project the contents of my mind into celestial orbit,
A state of unison with a higher consciousness.
Thoughts adrift, drunk with the patterns in the minute details
Orchestrating the abstract excerpts that i myself cannot fathom.
Just regurgitated nonsense
A consequence,
of disjointed ideas and extravagant ambition as i become my own harshest critic.
Copyright © Rajarshi Keshari | Year Posted 2017
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Rajarshi Keshari Poem
Why do i, in agony writhe when
thine eyes, draw a curtain to my plight.
When words screech for attention, you only perceive verbose melodrama.
Or perhaps you live in spite of a class in strife?
And that you guise in colours of safron and never knew what it means to be Red.
Such is the nature of your love for this land.
Such is your justice, such is the nature of the judgement you've drawn in your hand.
You who hath justified loot and plunder
Count the casualties of intense struggle.
A mere statistic. An amoral victory.
I know that your masters are fragile
But must You tremble and cower
in the presence of a spectre;
The sights and sound of a distant red cry.
Or is it that it is not a ghost you see but the myriad hammers and sickles of a justice so real; served at last.
Copyright © Rajarshi Keshari | Year Posted 2018
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Rajarshi Keshari Poem
The voice inside compelled her
The world around her chose to withdraw from the cries.
The skies bore a veil of silence, so did the people below it.
Amidst silence, there were one's who rejoiced.
And they have made themselves loud
But it is nothing but noise.
Noise that breeds silence.
A silence that is being weaponized.
Through unspeakable acts of violence.
And this silence rattled her more than the loudest threats.
But She remained remarkably firm
And carried on alone.
Despite the hollow eyes of the dead.
Despite the morbid tales they spread.
The hand that was meant to feed, snatched away their bread, snatched away their land, snatched away their peace.
Through fear and tyranny
Through the battles waged on the poorest of them all.
And the one's who had once sworn to protect them, hunt them instead.
how could a people ever, not peacefully accept their fate?
They have betrayed the doctrine of the state.
And so they lie dead, true blackness in their stare.
Copyright © Rajarshi Keshari | Year Posted 2018
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Rajarshi Keshari Poem
It is in the all surveying gaze of the sun that I concede to the veil of sanctity
harbouring a humane presence in me.
It is in the light of day that a lurking sinister figure hides and takes refuge in the guise of my shadow.
It is during the eve that a poet knocks on my being and exhales the vital essence of his expression into these empty words, bringing them to life.
But it is in the lonely night's chill that I am engulfed by the vast expanse of this shadow.
And as an ominous breeze sways my curtain gently aside ,
the faint incandesent glow from the outside breathes life into an obscure picture now in full fledged motion.
A trip into the heart of the soviet land,
A remorseless Stalin gleaming at an imaginary crowd atop the podium at Red Square .
A despot is born in a world plunged in darkness.
The shadow awaits the day the sun will never rise again.
Copyright © Rajarshi Keshari | Year Posted 2018
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Rajarshi Keshari Poem
There was something in the breeze on that day,
Perhaps an idea by which he was dethroned
Or rather he abdicated
And all this while he had her at arms reach though never enraptured
It was on that day he would pine for her only to capture the fading traces of a wraith.
Copyright © Rajarshi Keshari | Year Posted 2018
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