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logikal.rediffiland.com/
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Magna Carta
Magna Carta to Muse Muse, alive, alone I always feel the amorous rain Calling like Lilies, hyacinths, azaleas Sometimes I feel like a hug Like rain Falling all over Passing everything To be simmering Trickling and touching May be retracing The clouds and thunder Shivering clasped in Thickening strands of hair And raindrops on your face Racing tantalized, Obsession, bewitching Compliant to the hot flush- Sometimes these thoughts just come Like the cumulonimbus colonies Of endearment, Held in abeyance by gooseflesh Waiting for near deluge triggers And more, of all I confess my love- Is there more, that you wish me to add? Muse, alive, alone! kbdgr8est 20 Aug 2008 |
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This, Fire
This fire knew the spectrum Eyes, sighs, house, spouse Share, hair, gypsy dances Trees, bees, sunset, sky The colors of the rainbow flames Sepia salts, copper green, Sodium yellow, iron red Magnesium white, ghostly Carbon Disulphide, sulfur fumes Ordeal, virtue, deflowered, blue This fire knew the evils Creeping inside with alcohol With a begging bowl, dice and less Truth, nude, lewd harness Boiling dry steam, extreme Furnace, burning crude Fire in my hair fire in my eyes
Fire between everything- obtuse Raging houses, acres of forests Millions of minds, prudence But lies, fire, liar, ashes, flare Touches and dares, Rhapsody, passion blowing winds, A time to remember agonize Fire and the quiet too soon! Fire, gluttony Else- food! kbdgr8est 20 August 2008
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Calling Spring
Calling Spring Though you have gone a little ahead, Though you asked- Incredulously and lilting, Why would I be drawn, Like the old sage- To you, Mahua, wine like Of long ago? For spring fled Ephemeral, in transit, Just sand by the fistful Slipping slowly Silver streaking fish In the creek Wishing Calling spring I race you My Mahua- For a bowl Of nubile youth! Amber wine Heady thoughts Crystalline mica Glints on skin A flight of homeward birds Deep evening Calling spring Now, here Though you have gone a little ahead You linger On the sand bank In that knee deep water Mahua again Beckoning! kbdgr8est 19 August |
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Chook de... India
Anju out of Olympics... Srilanka defeated India... No Indian Team in Olympics... Akhil Kumar lost yesterday... Chook de India Medal ka sapna Zara namumkeen hai Har competitshun mei loodakna Purani aadat hai To phir kya kahna Chook gaya India Chook de India Chuck de India Chahe wo cricket ho Chahe kho-kho ho Kyah hum kahen Is baar bhi wah- To phir kya kahna Chook gaya India Chook de India Chuck de India! Yaran loggaan Akhian mein daal de patti Kya kahega KB Kee kahna To phir kya kahna Chook gaya India Chook de India Chuck de India! Boom chaka Boom chaka Boom chaka Boom chaka Boom chaka Boom chaka Boom chaka Boom chaka Kakke kya kahna Chook gaya India Chook de India Chuck de India! kbdgr8est 19 August 2008 | India does it again! Why dream of medals Slightly im-po-ssi-ble! At the finals we always fail Old habits, we can tell! So what do I say India has another bad day Oh the chance is gone Chuck it India! Whether is the game of cricket, Or the really Indian Kho-Kho What do we say Again we lose, Oh yes! So what do I say India has another bad day Oh the chance is gone Chuck it India! Aye my friends Blindfold yourselves men, What can KB say We live, only to see this day So what do I say India has another bad day Oh the chance is gone Chuck it India! Boom chaka Boom chaka Boom chaka Boom chaka Boom chaka Boom chaka Boom chaka Boom chaka Young ones what to say India has another bad day Oh the chance is gone Chuck it India! |
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Peace
Peace! Want talk Stare cruelly Always < Foreplay > Demonical silence Wanting hard Little to do This way At noon The venue Where voices < Like verse > Undressed, ready Unlaced braced Cruelly crying Night, Day Décolletage, Sacrilege Transgressed Rage Capitulate Hate < Moans > Clay Preludes Prefaces Deluges Monosyllabic Routines Every day All day kbdgr8est 19 August 2008 |
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Calling Cassandra
Creased skin New born Or old crow’s feet
If the eventides dim Unseeing I would know The rivers in spate The rowboats and the sails
Creased poems Whither go The leaves Swinging in mid air
If dawn erases my dreams Unseeing I would know Nothing is lost Paradise lies in my eyes
Youth has gone by Now the Past Was my prime I dream Of the sunshine
Calling Cassandra My eyes want the future Your words, truthful Harsh and dreamless In faith Tragic Divine… kbdgr8est 18 August 2008
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Signing In Problems...
Beckoning me is the Sign-in page With that oft repeated message See Abhineet it always seems to say Or pick Raj j, with feet of clay I wonder why Kisan Jena is stuck Sharing Manish’s luck Or why we see Ishaq Md, for God’s sake For a year and more, without break ILand software is fond of Gyan Prakash And Sushanta Pal is up too, with a rash Chandra must be from Bandra Looking for gifts from Miss Cassandra Always getting a look is Praveen Deshmukh And Kittu Mohan is absolutely stranded On sign-in pages, whenever we have iLanded! kbdgr8est 18 August 2008
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Beyond The Thin Line
Unfit for Psychoanalysis My summers have given way to the rain And to cobwebs too, inside my brain I see damnation and fallacy so clear Everything now is unsafe- a deep, unnamed fear I may have the ghost of inborn subconscious There is indeed a transition to the devious I write of things I saw, was and are now gone I am sure I would never find these in the morn… I am taken in by the poison- lethargic involution And thrown away the path of sanity, of reason Sometimes in my depths I see a glint of light, I deviate in my days a bit, and holler aloud at night Though my days begin in recovery, soon I may not see The light of a soul guiding itself, the Devil is inside me I have always had him inside, in a compromise I detest And now I think that only the Devil can be the best Swirling around me are the muses of evil in my mind The eternal narcosis, living and crawling, I am resigned… I am now happy, almost on the terminal stage, near bliss In raving crisis, past everything, even psychoanalysis! kbdgr8est 18 Aug 2008 |
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Arabesque
The Harem… Pants A harem love song by a hundred begums for one scrawny li’l sheikh- in a hundred voices of discord the harem pants- fifty degrees centigrade in the shade- is there any one left in the Harem? and so, they sang… O lunatic Sheikh Give us a break… Transparent in our attire In this desert Inside the tent In the blazing sun For your seventy years Is intemperate
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