Saturday, May 22, 2010

Wrecked Smiles

Half filled immigration forms
and unfulfilled dreams
burn together in a mangled
pile of metal, plastic and
scattered pieces of His best
yet fragile toys so far.

Strapped in for the final surge of
G-forces before the first of
the many urges and splurges
of love and the li'l pleasures
of a small-town reunion;
lie in tatters now; a few metres
late and it was in smoke, the smiles;
gloom n shock and a wreck left for us all!


(The crash victims in Mangalore, may their souls rest in peace...)

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Copulation Explosion!


When in doubt, copulate
with the first of the yellow
eyed ones in the dim
light of hubs where cubs n
funk and trance call the shots,
and red lights mark the spots.

Copulate, the art of need,
use and being used;
proving the theories, economic,
by market geeks for
Sensex drives.
Useful for the Zen-sex jives,
this, the oldest of trades.

Copulate, indeed the need
of the hour;
Copulate, indeed the word
of the day;
Copulate, indeed the balm
for those sores;
Copulate, till you laugh
no more no less.

Copulate, the jaw-breaking joke,
in a night full of verbs,
in a room full of smoke,
under a roof tiled by friends,
to ease nerves and fly.
Copulate, don't forget yo mate.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

The Drench Connection!

Why would I shy, aye fear?
There's life in your beats,
these drops softening
the wrinkles on a parched land
with something better than
the humid, salty trickle
its so used to from the
bare tillers of its skin.

Why read good old pain tonight
when ye feel the rain,
in a ride - slip n slide;
an enlightened sleepwalk
to a bed near the beach
where dreams await,
and visions of a dance as
angels above kiss my brow.

The connect made up there,
right where we belong;
in that spring of youth she loves,
while I can just sing 'em monsoon songs.

Monday, May 10, 2010

Sonshine on mama's day

This indeed my mother's gift
- from her days filled with
smiles adoring the might
of a man of love at his house.

The flickering candle a shy
witness to her passion;
no, she will never take no
for an answer; it's her womb praying.

And the baby gets the cheers
from the gathered lot at noon
to revel in the most glorified
sacrifice ever by a man.

Lord, the rebel gets the lauds,
his presence here as gift
for the dearest on her day,
rewarded with claps; wow!

Made possible by her hails
with beads to one virgin
and her smiling son in pain;
divine, blessed you are mama!

Friday, May 07, 2010

Cry n Dry!


Yeah, you glowed indeed as
waves of passion flowed towards
the naughty ones - boys and girls;
ah, the sensuous grace
during moonlit camps when you
gently flowed into their world,
a belly dancer from the heavens,
snaking to a divine tune.

Ageless beauty, why ye picked
the heartless of all to
bare your bosom; see
your cracked lips now and
the jaded mirror near your
navel where once the young
laughed at their reflected souls
before bathing in your depths.

You let them in each time they
knocked; giving them
treasures from your fertile womb,
gifts from the mighty warrior.
The nights when ye beauty
inspired all 'em poets who drank
wine and then raped thy beauty;
the damned who never loved you.

Barren, the dried springs
of life now as trucks from pimps
mined your virgin bounty
to build their bloody world
of false promises with concrete.
I cry, my tears not enough
to fill your dried veins with salt
to wash down the capitalist muck.

Where is your anger? The
monthly cycle when you swell
and flush the sins by tourists,
who keep their conscience and
passports safe at resort lockers,
right within the fake world built
by selling your divine flesh.
Yeah, I see death in your blue eyes!