if the world ever gets to know....

if the world ever gets to know the darkness of the minds that lurk inconsequentially in the alleys of the underworld....we would find an evening to lounge in the marine draive without fear.....time to recapitulate all the sounds of blasts..... hollering cries from the archangels of the city...yet no hand of care coming forward....

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the days and nights of city animal

when the morning sun falls on my wide open terrace and filters in thru the wire mesh of the front door, the day looks so beautiful, eager to accept one in its warm embrace for a fruitful journey ahead...and then the eyes go to the clock, which says it is 10' o clock and the heart misses a beat.. again late for work....why do we have the habit of watching television till late in the night with nuthin really to watch only to get up late and get late for work...can we ever be in time...forget about about early? and then starts the madenning drive thru the mad city traffic...three wheelers, rickshaws, tempos, phatphatis...all out there trying to prove their skills not giving a penny of a thought to civility and patience...what is the hurry? why is the hurry? if u r late then might as well accept it and make good use of the rest of the day... the saving grace is the FM radio that beams its non-stop nonsense and songs to keep one's mind off the madness on the roads...and then that fa

where are the lights...

tell me where are the lights to light up the nights dreams to take flights from the dark to the bright- ness of the days undettered, unfazed amidst the sun and its rays and the hot summer blaze where are the streams to flow and take the fire in tow into the seas of the morrow at the helm of the bow....

wanderlust

.......Inspiration trickles down a lost link desperately trying to hold on to. Inspiration is dead in a Reality as consuming as cancer. Eating the soul from within. Gnawing at it like menacing rodents gone rampant with plague....... .......The silvery moon hanging in anticipation at a quiet western horizon. Moonlight blues and silver fairies making love by the dancing stream. Streams and cascades caressing the mountain slopes, awaken in the shadows of a silent night. Contemplating a mood that stirs strings of a faint nostalgia. Southern stars, bright with a soothing brilliance, trying to communicate. Posing questions, eternal querries about the nature of beauty, the implications of life...... ........Then there are the tears. Heavens look upon and nod in helplessness. Wandering souls, burning amber within, a cold impassivity on the surface. Passions running high, but with not the remotest inkling of the vents. Vents to release the rapid retrogate. Only a wiltering wilderness to wallow

incognito

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