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

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

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

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!

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

abhineet narain
Raj j
kisan jena
manish
ishaq md

gyan prakash
susanta pal
chandra
Praveen Desh...
kittu mohan

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

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

Did you hear the miserable minstrel

Sing in his forlorn jackal voice?

Those romantic strains

Ooh sheikh

Wooo sheikh.

Fat sheikh

Big fat sheikh

Completely in sweat

Deciding which one of us would the Sheikh take?

Or shall we just feed him camel steak

Poisoned by the love ash

Burning the crude oil

Makes us boil

The smoke is sulfurous

Oh Sheikh, darling wizened old cuss!

Ah! At long last he has decided

To sleep with the camel

And the night is going by

The babies are crying for the breasts

Oh manic Sheikh

Take the dirty camel

Go and go far with your dirty chair

The camel stinks

Together the two of you

Just pollute

The atmosphere!

We shall have to call

Lawrence,

Lawrence, come to Arabia-

And rid the Sheikh of his phobia

Can thee, oh noble old Sheikh

Eat this burnt bread

We have the temerity to bake

In the hot sands?

Go wash thee self

Swim in that yonder lake

A mirage may be,

Take as long as thou needest

Or thou too shall be on the grill,

And in thy own juices

Shall thou be baked!

And oh Fatima

Your little one cries so hard

Kick the old shaky Sheikh

In his bag of lard-

Mariam Bibi turn the heat up,

Put in a bag of charcoal

And kick the drunken old sheikh's

Thick fat asshole

Oh Sheikh

Akh akh akh Sheikh

May be you want Mistress Helen

Or that 2008 model,

That old one eyed crone

We wait, drunk lecher husband

Oh mama mia

Holy Sainted

Nasal Reshamiah

Our Dearest Yahia.

Oh yes miracles never cease

Yahiya the old Sheikh, amour

Is at long last awake

And begs for Miss Young Lucy

Now not so juicy

What do we care about?

She is now sun-dried

From the heat

In the tent

Good enough to be baked or fried

Alas Oh Sheikh

Try the dead Miss Hasina

From Messina

Marinated in garlic and ginger

Dripping from her finger

As she ate the camels bum

And found it as yum as a rotten plum

She poured so much more

She was soon so sore

And yes

Sheikh

You are dead-

And there are 72 baked Houris

At your service

Round the clock

Take stock

We are clad

In Regulation Red Harem Pants

Made by the merchants

Of Venice

In Greece

kbdgr8est

17 August

grey moods grey livelihood

a seagull in the sky

two lives in her mind tired for two nights

she drew

curious looks- walking the aisles

with a tray in her hands

and a wan smile

as she paused, we knew

her name, tattooed in that golden wing

and she walked some more, unchanged

blue eyes green eyes blue sky green

each side of her face belied her moods

of blue, floods of green hopes

as she thought of home

with her mom, alone

the lenses she wore were wrong

now she has grey eyes at the port side door

twin dreams

and the wings

in her bag

she changed, now informal

blue eyes green eyes blue sky green

once again tomorrow

in the big bird

on the tarmac

blue eyes green eyes blue sky green

grey moods grey livelihood

a seagull in the sky

a seagull in the sky

two lives in her mind tired new nights