Tuesday, November 30, 2010
She
A Letter to Matt Moony;The Poet
Sir, I am really very sorry;I was not that clear in that specific poem.Of course,your matured hand pointed out that fault to me.It was rather clear to the Indian readers.Thanks once again.
On/around the road,everything--good or bad--happens.It witnesses a lot many events.One such intolerable event in Indian democracy is when all of us are united in the name of a faith or religion,we can break with that instrument.Politicians do it so easily.Why a Graham Steins or a Babri Masjid demolition!In the road of our lives we the poets bear all such pain.Either Christianity or Hinduism or even in any other religion we are stapled together to break when a little thing happens.Don't you agree?Golaka
On/around the road,everything--good or bad--happens.It witnesses a lot many events.One such intolerable event in Indian democracy is when all of us are united in the name of a faith or religion,we can break with that instrument.Politicians do it so easily.Why a Graham Steins or a Babri Masjid demolition!In the road of our lives we the poets bear all such pain.Either Christianity or Hinduism or even in any other religion we are stapled together to break when a little thing happens.Don't you agree?Golaka
Everywhere
Where is life if not here!
Her silvery skin spreads
with the morning sun
I inhell the scent of her nubile youth
in air
night falls like a cascade
of the braid of hair
she smiles on every flower.
History says
she is in every age;
she is,was not,is not,was.
No need to get and touch.
Reality invites her to my dream
and
dream is an entrance to my tomb.
Oh! I am happy everywhere
Was she or not
Is she or not
will she be or not .
I found her,find her,will find her
Her silvery skin spreads
with the morning sun
I inhell the scent of her nubile youth
in air
night falls like a cascade
of the braid of hair
she smiles on every flower.
History says
she is in every age;
she is,was not,is not,was.
No need to get and touch.
Reality invites her to my dream
and
dream is an entrance to my tomb.
Oh! I am happy everywhere
Was she or not
Is she or not
will she be or not .
I found her,find her,will find her
Butterfly To Caterpillar
The reverse you are.
At eighty or with wife or grandchildren
youth hides in the umbra
a blurred image
shakes hand with the fallen leaf
a retired general
stars and guns are off.
How many times I fondled you
kissed theflowers
followed the flies
caressed the heaps
clasped the thighs
defined love differently.
Feminism haunts here
independence for all I cry aloud
reciprocation is the recipe of love--
all but me was an animal.
I brood like a caterpillar
the elevation of my soul.
Sin or sanctity covers the cabin
I am in it .
That's all.
At eighty that's all.
At eighty or with wife or grandchildren
youth hides in the umbra
a blurred image
shakes hand with the fallen leaf
a retired general
stars and guns are off.
How many times I fondled you
kissed theflowers
followed the flies
caressed the heaps
clasped the thighs
defined love differently.
Feminism haunts here
independence for all I cry aloud
reciprocation is the recipe of love--
all but me was an animal.
I brood like a caterpillar
the elevation of my soul.
Sin or sanctity covers the cabin
I am in it .
That's all.
At eighty that's all.
A Different Song
Somewhere the ruffled wind sings a lullaby
whoelse will
when the hiss of death audible
from below the tree of govt.
The sky covers him from the paws of winter.
Barren was his wife
who gifted loneliness and went.
His swollen feet love the earth ,
hug it closely always .
He calculates his age more often,
sleeps to wake and listen to all those
whoelse will
when the hiss of death audible
from below the tree of govt.
The sky covers him from the paws of winter.
Barren was his wife
who gifted loneliness and went.
His swollen feet love the earth ,
hug it closely always .
He calculates his age more often,
sleeps to wake and listen to all those
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Abracadabra
Sometimes I feel where I am
sometimes I fail.I love the leaves
I love you.The dark cloud touches me
the pale smoke too.Death
stands in front of me.
The swollen feet of Suka Dehuri
covers my thought.I forget all
as fire in the loins glow.
My ‘complex’ withers
when I stand before you
and you undress or silently allow me.
The sun is dear but the moon no less.
You are near but life no less.
Death everywhere and life nearby.
Baliyatra
There at Cuttack the Baliyatra runs.Millions of people join it to see and enjoy.Everyone is with a purpose of his own.Sometimes good sometimes evil.Thousands of policemen and officials are unnecessarily entrusted to manage this.There is always the possibility of some problem in it.Then why do people develop such craze to go there.I am amazed we invite problems for nothing.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
The Map
I drew a map of my childhood
another of my adolescence, then
my youth and the next. One day ,
sitting alone I tried to compare all .
Found one picture constant in them
like the plateau or rain fed area
or the contours.
The LOVE,LOVE,LOVE.
I tore those to pieces then
threw them to the ocean of death
but
found myself
totally drenched.
Oh! yes I am.
Rural Rivalry
Keshadurapal;Keonjhar;Odisha-26-11-2010-The temporary film hall built at the Baliyatra field has been burnt by a few nasty inhuman people of the locality.however at night at 2 o'clock it was found burning in a rash when others were watching a theater nearby.however the film show was over by then otherwise large many people would have been dead.It is seer rivalry that made some hooligans intolerant of others income and planned this plight.Of course it is because of this I never like to go to any fair.these type of fairs causing crowd should not be facilitated nowadays as there are large markets around the corner to buy whatever someone likes.
Death of Democracy in the Assembly
The Assembly especially the Assembly of Odisha has been busy in killing the democratic set up of the state.There has been no wise discussion as far as my knowledge is concerned there. Caricatures,mimicries,hullabullas are the recurrent activities there. Huge wastage of money is going on there. It is not the symptom of good democracy.
In The Darkness
In the darkness a mango falls
an owl hoots
wind blows and you smile.
In the darkness news comes
a naxal fires
a flower withers,he chooses words.
In the darkness silence churns
a God transforms
a heaven makes and my hair falls.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
A Demon or a God
Wherever the body is
‘I’ get up hiddenly
run, fly or float
somewhere other I am.
From inside the knot;
the neck spits at a giraffe
eyes telescope
greed zooms in
I suck a lot many things
you never see; can’t see at all.
Envy the neighbour
kill the Alexanders
rape the virgins or a Cleophile
and philosophise
shinning like the sun.
Where you’re; there my body is
where you’re;I am not there;
I sit somewhere
like a God
away from all.
I stand somewhere
like a demon
away from all.
Silence
Silence after a murder
no kith and keen nearby
buzz of the flies around
heart throbs, mouth agape
I cry, bleat, hoot.
They take the shape of an amoeba
and
shape or no shape
the amoeba is all but a poem.
Death At Harichandanpur
Harichandanpur;Keonjhar;Odisha;India-23-11-2010--Harichandanpur has been largely infected by the robbers and wood mafias whom the govt is searching in the name of Naxalites.They create all hazard and all problem. But this time the boy Biswojit Barik has been killed not by them.An innocent boy of +3.2nd yr sc with two first class certificates--very regular in the class-- has been thrown into the pond after being murdered.What animality still persists in man! Either for love or for politics he has become a victim of this animality. Probably political interference hinders the process of inspection.However the college will suffer a lot. Next year students from outside the locality will never come to this college.I am really sad for the boy. And my feeling is that lowering the age of voters to eighteen-- from this angle-- has never been good.Some created the vote bank and the colleges have been suffering.Hell to this kind of democracy.
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