I am ever
found wrecked, as if:
Wishing for
this and that.
But the urge
To be the
supreme composer
Supersedes
any established
And
forthcoming notions
Of existence
and being.
O Muse!
Where art thou?
Amid the
noise of this and that,
I remain
ever nostalgic for thy sounds.
And the supreme
weapons
Are ever inviting:
Colours will
to be an eternal waterfall,
And canvas
remains ever famished.
I do not
desire to be forsaken.
Ah, there
you are!
Be the god,
be the priest,
Be the
witch, be the witchdoctor,
Be what you
will be now
—You will be
what and why you will be
What and why you will be—
And render
me a peacock in trance
To the tunes
of thy wands,
To the fumes
of thy potions,
And let it
churn.
"What shalt
thy verses be:
Composed or disoriented,
Contemplations
and reflections,
Comprehensive or succinct,
Revealed and concealed,
Contradictions or concurrences,
Established and challenged,
Past and
forthcoming,
Enigmas and
stigmas—
I being the
enigma,
Thou being the stigma?”
I art thy flute:
A loyal
subject
To thy tango
performing hands.
Blow some
air into my embouchure hole
And make the
holes perform waltz—
Ever resonating thy sounds.
"Who shalt
thy verses be for:
Self or
others,
Or either or neither?”
I art thy
tabula rasa.
Let me be
consumed by thy aurora,
As the sea
waves are devoured
By the sand at the shore.
Ephemeral Echoes (2018)
-
Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow
Yesterday,
I had commenced the walk
To reach the river.
Today,
I have managed
To arrive at the river bank.
Tomorrow,
I will approach the river.
Now, I certainly cannot be certain
As to whether the river
—Nature of river,
Things of river—
Will acknowledge
My tangible and intangible
presence,
And encourage further immersing?
Yesterday,
I had heard them claim:
"Earth is the Cosmos.
Our home is the epicentre!”
Today,
I have heard them profess:
"Our yesteryears
Were instilled with foolishness.
How could everything
Revolve around the one,
When the one itself needs
Revolving around many things?”
Tomorrow,
I will hear them announce:
"Well, let’s not become too fixated
On our past and present.
We cannot unnecessarily
Allow the bygones
Dictate and determine our future.
Let us revisit
Our propositions and dispositions.
Let us be wiser, shall we?”
Ephemeral Echoes (2018)
-
The Mirror
I always
strive to consciously carry
The mirror-of-unconscious
with me
—Whenever I
wonder,
Wherever I wander.
It’s meant
to render the perceptions
Supersede
the ordinary
In the mere
reflections,
Since the
reflections are often
Far from being
pure.
But the
mirror itself is a bearer
Of a few
irreparable cracks.
I took it to
all manner of glass-smiths.
They did
offer
To put it
back into the furnace,
And fashion
a new one out of it.
But the
thought of detachment
From the
known and familiar
Was rather
too insufferable for me.
I have been
to the open market
To find an
exact-replica of it.
But then,
even the so-called clones
Are hardly ever without discrepancies.
Maybe some
Ordinary or unprecedented occurrences
Will render
the cracks wither away,
Or at least
replace them.
Ephemeral Echoes (2018)
-
Lila and Maya
If ye show me—
I
Effects without causes
Sounds without vibrations
Thoughts without images
Words without letters
II
Water without moisture
Fire without flames
Wind without air
Sand without dust
III
Leaves without veins
Flowers without petals
Butterflies without wings
Oysters without shells
IV
Roots without seeds
I shalt show ye—
Lila without maya.
Metamorphoses: Poetic Discourses (2019)
-
Distant Memory
Lately,
I'm prone to misplacing
the senses rather conveniently.
There ought to be
something misplaced
about the heavenly beverage,
Mr. Daniel's, apparently
—misbehaving and uncooperative.
The ones,
once really close acquaintances,
are now a distant memory.
No. Not even that.
They say,
"when under the influence,
he babbles lunacy
—roses are thorns,
thorns are roses,
all are indifferent."
I say,
when I am not,
I do that.
See the distant memory?
Metamorphoses: Poetic Discourses (2019)
-
Life at 2 A.M.
Life at two ante meridiem—
October night,
pajamas,
half opened window,
smell of rain,
alnus glutinosa,
hoo-oo, hoo-oo,
tan desk top,
lamp light,
weetabix,
Das Capital by Marx,
That Smell by Lynyrd Skynyrd,
parker stylo,
A4 notebook from WHSmith,
thesis draft.
Metamorphoses: Poetic Discourses (2019)
-