Ebullition 1

I think,

and I go on

‘bout him

endlessly, as if that’s all;

faraway, he leads different,

and here a mannequin I am

to watch him grow with—

generalized anxiety disorder;

i grow the same with all this thinking,

bemoaning.

The Bluest Eye

There is more to beauty

than just beauty.

Whites hate Blacks,

Blacks hate black

and try better.

“You little black bitch,” one barked,

she lowered down;

how bitter ‘tis to look into one’s beauty

through another’s eyes.

Quarts of white milk etched with

blue and blonde Shirley Temple

incessantly gulped down

by blue-eyes-fanatic.

Her mother sides the Whites;

daughter enters and knocks over,

white girl asks, “Who is she?”,

mother replies, “They are none.”

Unnoticed, unshared, unloved;

even the black cat flaunts blue eyes;

seeks a fortune-teller, says—

“Only you’ll be able to see them.”

Her imaginary friend threatens to run,

but promises to return soon

as new blues are bequeathed.

She loves her new blue eyes,

wants them to be the bluest.

Vague

Was reading a quote of Kafka yesterday,

he seemed very, very unknown.

Blotted by tears, soon, upon my face,

or was it, mind, instead.

It was a stroke in my soul:

a mental picture.

I don’t remember it today,

its vague, addressed in ‘life’ and ‘death’,

and that is all I want to think;

in-between is all I do,

and if, by-chance

i understand – what it means,

i know

i will wish the end.

Je crois en quelque chose

quelque chose qui est très petit(e),

une particule obscure.

Une particule qui

ne se voit pas,

ne se sentent pas,

et

ne peux pas être goûté.

C'est à l'intérieur de ton âme,

je parle, mon âme, ton âme.

Pourquoi tout est si vague?

- So yeah

- what?

- so yeah

- what?

- the war

- what?

- the world war

- you're crazy

- think so?

- wanna bet?

- the war boy, the war, hellyeah do

- well shoot ye'self

- man, oh man.

Jawans

There are our jawans, brave but tarnished

On the frontiers and Siachen glacier, they toil and spend.

Months of varying temperature shower upon them

Yet they stand with immunity and what with their grace!

Yes, now, few do peek at the nameless question:

They, no doubt have a family; their children must be proud?

It sparkles very commonly now: India and Pakistan

Brothers but bloody brothers, sigh, what future intends us?

Their truth, our truth; claims and disclaims; fiction and non-fiction

If this is what we are headed to, we cannot be better dressed.

Deep hurt. Who is so much? Government? People? Paper or trees?

No. Would not so much hurt us straight. Later. The children on the horizon.

Peace and harmony is the solution; much heard, goes unseen.

They sacrifice, we deliver only for happy sleep and avarice.

Debates, blame-politics, insufferable-confronts, tweets, comments

Pour and out-pour. The gloom over us, to be extinguished

Is only fumed further.

I fell in love

but I never told

sat back—

and wrote morose.

I was romantic

from the beginning

nobody noticed,

sat back—

and they labeled me stupid.

How it changes,

how everything changes,

you do not see it

neither do you feel,

you just look back

and wonder how different it is.

I asked—

why be so reflective?

life is meant and needs must be,

accept or deflect

or straightaway be a fugitive.

How factual,

how practical

it is

today;

I love you,

I love you too, babe:

End scene.