DECEPTIVE APPEARANCES; THE THOUGHT THAT MATTERS

Look not at the action my friend…

Look at the thought behind the same

People have a different thought in the mind

While their lips may utter something else

They may appear nice and sweet outside

And act so considerate and kind

But hate or be jealous of you inside

Unless you can really read their mind.

Look not at the action my friend…

It’s the thought which really matters

The tongue can any which way bend

Intent is what really matters

People who wish you well

May not always show it outside

You can’t always really tell

Even if you have a seat at the ringside.

Look not at the action my friend…

For you may perceive differently, my friend

ON THE OCCASION OF HOLI: THE INDIAN FESTIVAL OF SPRING

They spray colours all over them

A variety of colours indeed

To welcome the new born spring

For spring after a cold winter they really do need.

The colours they spray of different hues

Mix and merges to form a dark ink

Wonder what happened to the blues!

Wonder what happened to that candy pink!

For together they have all turned to black.

Black as their thoughts within

Like the thoughts within them so dark

Welcoming spring with sin

As they bully the weak and the women.

Just an opportunity to molest them

All in the name of welcoming spring.

Just as toxic as their existence an abomination

So are the poisonous chemicals sprayed

Such poison disguised as celebration

All in the name of welcoming spring is played

THE SOUL OF THE POEM

Just as any other worldly mother

Experiences the same joy and pain

Of giving birth to a child during labour

So too is the joy of birthing a poem.

The agony and the ecstasy of the effort

is the same when writing a bad one;

Which the reader may not like or derive comfort,

As it is for creating an excellent one

For ultimately from the soul it all rises

And definitely is written with total passion.

So read it even if it doesn’t deserve any prizes

For the sincerity of a piece is its salvation

For every poem does have an individual soul

And this soul makes the reading experience whole

MY ATTEMPTS AT IMMORTALITY

Here lies in restful slumber

All my attempts at immortality

Baby, they’ve got my number

For it’s the World Day for poetry

My poems they are a snoring

I guess that’s the message they convey

Even though they may be boring

Baby, its world Poetry Day

So dust my old poems

And read them once again

If you’ve never read them

It’s your lucky day and your gain.

Does this day have any meaning?

Does this day benefit poets like you and me?

Baby, can’t you hear me screaming?

Don’t bother; Let my poems be free

For such a day will only kill my creativity

Every day is a day of poetry for me

For I’m aiming only at immortality

So please let us poets be…

MY APOLOGIES TO TAGORE

Where the mind is filled with evil thoughts

 And the righteous cannot hold their head high

Where knowledge is commercialized by these stupid farts

Where the world has been betrayed and polluted dry

By narrow minded profiteering frauds

Where words are meaningless and far from the truth

Where tireless striving stretches its arms to destroy you with deception

Where the unclear stream of irrationality has dirtied your way

Into the dreary quick sand of bad habit

Where the mind is led forward by the devil

Into ever-widening negative karma and wrong action

Into that hell of chaos and evil, my Father, let me not awake

I DON'T BELIEVE IN PROCRASTINATION

I don't believe in the word procrastination.

I believe in putting off things until the timing is right

How do you know it is procrastination?

How can you say you are delaying when holding on tight;

When you don’t know your own destination?

Every action is part of a pattern so beautiful

And will be fulfilled at the right place and time

That is part of the unpredictable life so wonderful

Just wait for that which at the right time doth chime

And then you will know bliss so bountiful

A RIDDLE TO DECIPHER

I live in a place where there is many a house

All these houses have nine entrances or doors

These nine doors can be locked to keep away the louse

Half of these houses also have two windows

But the windows they are unable to lock

And that is why the tenants of the window less houses

Are more safe than the tenants without the lock

and sleep soundly with their spouses.

Now dear readers, I seek your views

On what are these two types of houses

What are they called? your response do choose

For your answer determines where you stand

Come answer and join the wagon band

That takes us to where we hold God's hand

A MEMORY OF RAIN

Within a memory of rain

There can be no pain

But only the gain

Of a memory of in the rain

The pitter patter doth flow

Into the bitter banter so slow

And make it pure and glow

As the fresh wind that doth blow

Brightening within the memory of rain

Rain, Rain, Rain is never in vain

DRINK FROM THE CISTERN OF LIFE

Drink from the cistern of life my friends

Do not waste the fount of youth my friends

For wasted medicine down the drain

Will only cause suffering and pain

Then living forever becomes vain

The body we consider the main

So drink from the cistern of life

To live without sorrow or strife

When we have immortality in our hands

We seek it with magic wands

We neglect what is the essential

And think we have something substantial

While we waste the precious waters of eternity

And let it flow down the drain in futility.

"Drink waters out of thine own cistern, and running waters out of thine own well."

- Proverbs: Chapter 5 - Verse 15.....

Please ponder on this verse..... For herein lies the answer to all life and healing...

THE CHARIOT OF MY MIND.

My steeds breathing fire unbridled 
Did cause many a commotion
Until my desires were slowly killed
To blinker and ride them in slow motion.
So to my chariot constructed with thoughts of desire
I did yoke my steeds from my stable.
I then did learn to control the horses breathing fire
And ride them until I was able
To witness the wonders within me, Sire.
I learnt the mechanics of my chariot of thought
With reeling thoughts like wings on fire
Did make my life better as my horses did trot
And send away all my desire.
I learnt the natures of my steeds
Which one to pull to turn which way
I understood their needs
And how they united to carry me away
The steed yoked to my right
Was always hot and bright
It made me victorious in every fight
As he carried me at the speed of light.
The steed thus yoked to my left
Was always cool for to me it femininely cleft
and helped me create the warp and weft
of this poem of meaning bereft.
My steeds breathing fire now bridled 
Did attract another steed so magnificent
The third when yoked and bridled
Made me experience bliss so omniscient

WHAT I AM

Humanity is my religion
And love is my creed;
While God is what I believe in
Who makes me live without greed.

Faith is my inner strength
And prayer is my power;
While God is my breath
Who makes me live not forever.

Conscience is my watch dog always
And rationality my temptress
While God is my protector in all ways
Who makes me refuse this seductress

Life is my toughest lesson
And the test which I have to pass.
While God is the reason
Who makes me bear this farce.

MY ATTEMPTS AT CREATION

My duty is to create
And it was to fulfill this
That my dad did me procreate
For in creation there is bliss

All I wanted to do was just create
Create not for others but for myself
For when I do try to create
I experience the bliss of God himself

At first I created a noise
Then I created a mess
Until I created a nuisance
By peeing on my mama’s dress

My next attempt at creation
Was with chalk on a slate
I then attempted an education
Which my teacher soon made me hate

I then tried to create relationships
With friends and a pretty girl next door
But it all ended in emotional hardships
For they all took me for a ride and more

I attempted to create a world of illusion
A world where I could hide within
The bubble burst and there remained disillusion
For the body had become emaciated and so thin

I later wanted to create a career
A profession where I could shine
I had to face many an obstacle and barrier
While I didn’t even find time to dine

I therefore decided to be an entrepreneur
And create something innovative
But then I decided to marry her
And from bachelorhood turn fugitive

It was only then that I truly turned creative
For indeed I did create three progeny
My attempts at being so creative
Has now led to my living in harmony….

THE THOUGHT BEHIND THE THOUGHT

Had a jingle on my mind
It kept on jingling all the while
So to the source of the jingling
My thoughts I did send
To that wonderful point where it was ringing
Have any of us thought to see,
The origin or fount of all our thought?
It is really so beautiful to see
The consciousness of thought enter our being
For then without thought we can be.
Standing on the margin of thought and naught
Is the key to remembering and forgetting.
But how many of us have remembered to think
Of this connecting link
Only one in ten million sees the
Link and uses his breath of fire
To which the thought is yoked
And thereby sent on a journey
Within, that only a few experience.