Adrift

The waters rose 

Churned and broke

Swelling and receding

Foaming the raft

The cold waves have no effect on him

He has been adrift for days

His fellow sings a morbid song

He joins in, and laughs at the sea

With the sky seeming to dip into the horizon

Miles and miles all around

They have nerves of steel

With half eaten fish, and half thirsty

They sleep with their chest to the rising moon

At this, most would have died of panic

Not these

They rule in the storms

They rule on the unforgiving seas

Many years have they spent

In lashing, overboard, and on windless eerie silence

But always have reached port, to dance drunk, in glee

They are rough faced

Bearded, ugly, burly

Yet they are full of respect

They may have punished, tormented, half dead so many times

Yet these sailors will always want

To die at sea

Drifting into a red sunset

Like a viking on his last journey

Wedlock and Wisdom

Sit with me while I write this song
Hold me not, touch not, speak not
Let me be, but be here, yet be not
Deflect the air, yet make no prints
Like staring into the eyes of a spectacled cobra
Focus, yet move not
Mend your ways, breathe silently
Don’t cough, sneeze, smirk, speak, talk
Sit by me like a wife should
Breathing, pretty, obedient, pleasing
Listen, hear, follow, bend to my wishes
When you chose wedlock
You chose so with glee
So now don’t bicker, and silent be
You chased this, you wanted this
This, and it is your identity
Do not disturb me, or disobey
I will just send you away
You are your own miscreant
And you are your own undoing
For wedlock rhymes with patriarchy
Want not if this then leave
And if leave you shall, educate the others
To be free, one has to be able
And strong, and steadfast and thirst for it
For there is no freedom here
There will never be

Avian

 
Whistle, Wallow
Shine bright
Test my might
Fight my fights
Yet always with the end in sight
In the morning light
In the darkest night
I shall not kneel
Cower
Or run from blight
I could bleed
I could breed
I could soar to great heights
For all that yet,
I shall only be human
And I shall seek
To be a bird
To spread my wings
Piercing the clouds
And look down upon all of earth
Midflight

Why Curate

A nip here, a tuck there

Such is how the poems are slaughtered

Tenses are fine

Spellings too

Conjunctions and line breaks have to

As the fingers sift through

And the words appear

On touch keyboards or physical ones

A rewrite is the worst

A poet must do

It is the equivalent of infanticide

For each poem is a child

And poets are never on display

A poem need not comply

For a poet's mind does never do

If you set out to write 

Let it be a barrage

Of the mind, the soul, the heart too

But if you should plan for one such

You are only an engineer

Poet not.

Food and words, don't end hunger

 Some mornings are bright
Only a chore too that bites a tad
She lay awoke
Mulling at her gnawing mind
The crimpled wedding saree from 5 year fore
And her bangles now broken into shards
She smiled at her bruised wrist
Tattooed in bruises of strong arms
A night off the inhibitions, she thought
In the arms of her old lover
Now the pillows like her forehead
And not her conscience
Are tainted in maroon, smudged
She sat to the edge of the bed
Smirked at her disposition
What all could she be called today
A wayward, stray, lustful, but a woman
Under psychotropics and flowing beer
She need not
Nor will she be bothered
Words and food don’t
Feed her hunger
Like her random visitor.

Midway

At half past 41

There is but a odd sigh

Where one shall seek to question

What all has gone by

Such not is for me alas

For none of it has been in haste

To command such regret

For I have nothing to lament

Or whinge and hurl black words at

 

At half past the darkest of night

The soul seems to seek peace

Or so I would imagine

It is but boredom and apathy

Where I and Humanity have failed

Each other, mostly I; its lack of hate

I live with stark truths

Avoiding its dark touch

 

At half past hate

I awoke in care

Your compassion and love, nope

Mine for mine

As only me would reason and judge

Can and should

Voices such as you

Are inverted rare

At half past love

That I lie awake

As a teen, the young boy that I was

I slid past the sad and grey

And saw the facades we portray

Love and care, until you toe a line

Should you flinch, broken from bonds,

It isn’t honest,

It’s all charade