This is a journey in sleep…
The specialty being
Flying here and there
Dying to be born
Getting birth to die…
Ultimate game that
Starts in darkness and
Ends in darkness…
Success is not bestowed here
But shared both sides..
Birth and death
Joy and agony
Sin and virtue
Twins that
Always coexist…
Many doctrines
Many adopted rules
But
Resistances exist
And
Armies to surpass them
Too exist..
Many types of apparel they bear
Their dominating path is huge
Even then
If we analyze
The results- very few…
….
Composing so many tunes
Molding them into a music
Adding soulful words
Harvesting a song..
A man and a woman
A new color that they cultivate
A thought of a second
And a color born out of it..
A bowl of painting..
Trance born out of hesitation
Illusion born
Out of movement
Movement of warmth…
Duty in a place
Possessions in another
Borrower in a place
Beneficiary in another
Comfort in a place
Burden in another
Burden of ten months
In a place…
Thought of a second
Color born out of it
Pondering over
So many nights that
Become remains
And their
Resultant relationships….
…
Dancing in confusion
Emotional enacting
Of two different averages
And their
Mistake of the final moment…
Yet another new-coming..
Cult of composing music
Within the time of a wink
Both having their share..
…
Magnanimity
Of keeping equality
Male magnanimity
Female magnanimity
…
A miracle that
All the secrets that are born
Become dead bodies….
…
Heavens and hells
Here in dispute
For the races..
…
Even the relationships that
Brought relationships
Search here and there
For poisonous milk..
If you need female
Searching for poisonous milk..
Refusal even in birth…
For a gender
Born out of resonance
Mother’s milk even
Is poisonous….
A culprit
This mother even
Is a culprit..
….
Self realized feminity
Wins so many heights
Even then
Truth haunts inside…
Keeping something in
Speaking something else out
Thinking a burden
That which were disposed
And
That which were hidden
Will reveal one day
A culprit..
This mother even
Is a culprit..
…
…
…
Even after flown high
Feast is available low down
Knowing that its gettable
Flying fast and low
Transforming his state huge
Gathering all the strength
A vulture kills the prey…
Growing high and excelling
And realizing the reality
Entire world praising
Relatives and parents adoring
Even after reaching these heights
Sorrow comes and haunts..
Swimming across the sea of emotions
Even after reaching these heights
Sorrow comes and haunts..
In a second
A vulture kills the prey…
Even the height haunts
A vulture that kills…
…
…
Memory of a long time
Memory of the first day…
Dream of complete freedom…
A heart of no stains
And humbug,
I was a small kid then…
Looking at an ant
Or looking at a sugarcane
Or looking at a bamboo stick,
Whatever
I was a small kid then…
…
…
In a hurry
Getting so many beats
The sweet I had
Even now it tastes in my tongue..
Getting beats
Getting hits
The gathered coconut pieces
Even now it tastes in my tongue..
…
…
A snail’s pace
My school’s sorrow
A life in forest
Where every day we die
My school’s sorrow…
….
A character that
Teaches philosophy with anger
A tiger that lived
Always in roars
My maths teacher
A tiger in maths…
A parrot in a cage
That lived in chatter
My English teacher who
All the time repeated
The same rotten stuff…
A disease of intellect
That lived with definitions
Is my Tamil teacher…
…
A life in forest
Where every day we die
My school’s sorrow…
….
…
Sage even at that age..
The cult of magic of words
The ladder that lifted up
A crew of sad birds
Thinking only to fight
Our army marches every day
The battlefield is near
That’s our school…
…
..
Looking at the lonely hip
That dances with
Twin plaits of hair..
The stones thrown
Those – the milestones
Of my youth..
….
..
I have gifted
So many yellow flowers
And
Flirting poems
And
Paper love too…
The only exam
That I wrote
Without failure
And the fear of failure
Is my paper love…
…
Didn’t have to wait
For the exam results
In a second
A newly composed color
And my cheeks ready…
For the results…
Either as kisses or
Sound of slaps
In a second
Exam results..
..
Those stolen coins
Even in my tomb..
Dad’s shirt pocket
Mom’s saree pouch
Those stolen coins
To my tomb
As the coin
Kept on forehead..
Keeps on going
Is this honest life..
…
…
The moments of self criticism
Thinking about the passing path
Small and small desires
Minute plans to reach them
Plans and laws are
Just to fly kites…
Crossing so many squares
Today
Looking at the threshold
My mind goes
In circles
Nasty mind
Devastated mind …
…
..
As the artist drew
It became an epic ..
In a painting
A girl who smiles so rare
Seems to smile
All the time…
In an epic
A girl who smiles
All the time
Seems to smile
So rare..
I need both
A girl as a painting
To be my love
A girl as an epic
To be my wife…
….
…
From head to feet
Humiliating
Tempting
Undressing
Becoming bare
My wife
Is another Shiva
Who drank my poison
But me!!!
A duplicate portrait
A mocking portrait…
..
All my paths
Are just humbug
Even dangerous poison
And those creatures
Those follow them
The humanity’s adopted characters…
Leadership is mine
When even my hair is worn out
Dire necessity…
…
Those days in the past…
Sights on the path
Would wet my eyes…
Faces smiling for coins..
My fake smile
Injects poison
Into the hearts of
The young ones
Who prostrate at feet
Hold hands
And beg irritatingly….
…
…
After the finished dish…
Apart from the service tax
The bearer who waits
For pennies ..
Again a chance
To become charitable
Generous and a lot…
Again me
With the same
Fake smile..
…
Sanctum of a temple…
Fully crowded…
First respect…
“Please have it” says
The priest..
His plate waiting
For currency
Chance to be charitable
A hundred rupee note…
One who refused
To scatter coins
Now shatters into pieces..
My mirror
Will it show
Somebody else
Instead of me?
A charitable?
…
Manifestation of Rama
Only in stages..
Manifestation of Krishna
In beds
Many in variety
Finishing all
I’d wake
Again in
White shirt
As a Gandhian..
…….
Expert in words
An expert who
Turns words
For opportunities…
A critic
Of criticisms
Makes enemies
As etceteras
Makes the cheated
Further clowns…
The best devotee
Who builds tomb
Even to the Almighty..
An extempore
In religious talks
An extempore
Even in timely talks
His tongue is
The weaving machine
Of the great Kamba (Author of Raamayanaa)
Which calls
Janaki (Sita Devi) and Kannaki
For support…
..
Even the tremors fear
If his tremor of words come
Crazy of words…
….
He’s got
A fair taste too..
…
Poetry comes to him
Poetry that
The earth wonders…
Talking tactically
He attracts
Even Kalaimagal (The goddess of education and arts)
Why not
For desire
Even call girls…
…
..
Love- for him
Is not an unexpected accident
Pre planned love but
Hypnotizing magician
He is…
Anyone without
His awareness
Hypnotizing magician
He is…
…
Tears- for him
Just drops of water
A shepherd who
Changes sorrows
Into dreams…
He is…
..
Even if he
Points at mirage
And sells it,
Victory is his side..
…
Soulful friendship
If it angers
Kills heart
Smashes and goes off
Even then
A still tender heart that
Yields
Is his…
….
The air that
Goes into
A musical instrument
And comes out
Is he….
….
A great spy
Who changes
Situations as prisoners…
Is he..
…
Even the burnt firewood
Gets life
In his hands..
Arts appear on walls…
A night’s revolutionist
He is…
An artist
Who sleeps
Even in dreams..
…
Talking diplomatic
He makes society
In his favor..
Even if surrounded
And accused
Stands in his stance
Such conceited..
..
Money..
It’s smell..
Characters that praise it…
Even Gandhi
Is in his pocket
In control
As bundles..
..
A business magnate
Who puts screens across
The scorching sun and
Negotiates rates
For the moon…
He is…
…
Not only iron
Even rust
Is attracted..
Greed to buy
The world’s millionaires
Is also his…
…
Keeping leg over leg
Appeasing ears with a bud
Listening to religious sermons
And in the end
Just as if changing a dress
Changes his way..
An art
An abnormality
He is…
…
“A bull that pulls
Loads and loads
And exhausts
When sees grass,
Will it refuse to bend?”
He fights with
The cart rider…
Thenali raaman of
The kaliyuga…
….
Beneath a banyan tree
18 small villages
Of the surrounding
A court of justice..
In that
He is the owner..
Owner of
The judge’s chair..
But not
The owner of justice…
…
Better half and
His mother
His tongue turns them
Educated…
Educated of
Slavery like
“Bend your head and talk”
“Talk like a statue!”
….
If opposing sound is heard
Severe punishment..
Terminated will be
The word and
The tongue that said the word…
He has
Huge confidence
In democracy
But only
Outside his threshold…
…
Whatever he drops
Is a law…
If trespassed and
Pointed
The protected dignity
Will go with the wind…
Gossiping mouths of
Street petty shops
Clap and laugh
“Revolution
Only in books!!!..”
…
Even while sleeping
Not exhausting
Is his mind..
Who next day?
Gonna be beaten ..
Beaten with words..
Even if
Become statue
Out of a curse ..
There is a chance
Of recovery..
…
A heard story
Sometime
Somewhere..
“A princess turned frog..”
When kissed
Transformed and
Kissed back…
..if he exists
Princess will
Stay as a frog
Forever…
His words are
More cruel than
A curse..
…
…
Stingy even
In the tattered
Dirty clothes..
“No mercy
Even to a beggar
May be tomorrow
He will be our opponent…”
This is
His own
Business strategy…
…
Digging a deep pit
Laying foundation
Building a palace
An emperor of a no man land
Became a mendicant..
How many
Castles of imagination!!
He plays swing in heaven,
Heaven on earth
In the rope of love
Of Yama-the god of death…
The key of
The gate of the heaven
Only in his hands
Distributing entrance tickets
Business even there…
Huge business indeed…
In the queue..
Local big –wigs
Priest of a temple
Virgin girls
Why not
Even some Gods
Doing cross examination
Hundred whips
Four life imprisonments
In hell
Gives he
His brave heart
The entire world wonders..!!!
….
Its an illusion that
Whatever he touches
Themselves
Become him
…
A dangerous poison that
Stops breathe
If inhaled..
Is he
A poisonous elixir…
..
…
When listening stories
His words
Exude fire
Of a funeral.…
…
Questions that
One thought of asking
Become just pickle
Touching and tasting it
Says he “ No salt man!”
Dropping the questions
Into spiritual fire
Pouring ghee
His answers enjoy
The bonfire and
Recover cold..…
..
All the morals
That he learned
Only half of them for us..
Rest his choice…
If asked about the left
For no reason
Tying up and
Beating black and blue
Kicking severe
His legs enjoy
The warmth and
Recover cold..
…
Seeing diseases
Or ghost
Or a stubborn mother
Or a playful kid
His mind
Never shakes…
…
On the banks of river Kaveri
Clapping hand against thighs
And singing
Making the listener
Forget body…
Such lie less mouths too
In front of him
Miss the rhythm
Lose the shruthi
A magician who
Changes the orthodox..
….
Even Ramba and Oorvasi
Of Indiraloga
Who with their
Magical dance
Woo everyone
Fall and dance beautifully
For his
Magical words..
He’d say
Leg on leg
“Great..good competition..”
…
Going ahead
“Who is there?
Bring the poor fan
Who is confused
Because of my poem !!”
He’d say…
What?
Don’t you understand?
Dwelling in
The reader’s heart
Is his tactic..
…
Decorated eyes…
Seeing the speed
Of his hands blow…
Going in search
Of the month ‘thai’
Will offer pongal
And a feast…
…
Future tense- for him
Is past tense..
..
When the milk boils
And overflows..
His motherly heart
Never remembers the cow
But the calf…
But
When mother
Is diseased and awaits death
He waits and
Pours milk in to mouth
To assure death…
Such is his ghostly heart…
..
One who kills mercy…
….
…
…
..
If saying truth
World wars are
Just wars
Of minds..
Minds like his..
Even if we
Dig deep pits and
Bury them
Or fire them to ashes
Yawning sweetly
These ghosts
Will mock us..
…
..
To the naughty kids
Who come to play
He’d ask
“What’s your grandpaa’s name?”
“What’s your dad’s name?”
Even full name he’d ask..
It’s not love in them
It’s not to develop friendship too..
But to find
The family name
Hidden in the kid’s name..
..
Long strips of sacred ash
And rudraksha
And “God..God…” chants
Are the sharp weapons
Of this hidden enemy…
…
..
From a four men group
To the ruling ministry
So many are like him..
No more waste efforts
To capture them in nets
Or to negotiate rates with them…
These are malicious ghosts
Mixed in blood…
Endeavoring to clean up
Silently fixing
Their own
Last dates
Are many….
…
This is a race
Of drawn tracks
Endless race…
..
Every morning
That rises
Is a beautiful morning..
..
He- like -blocks
Which follow
Just like thunder
Are mysterious bushes
Leading to demise…
…
And conditions
That cut
The buds that
Long to blossom …
…
A race that
Can’t talk against
Or stand opposing
Or even think
..
And a repository of
Such races…
Herds of humans…
…
..
So many accomplished revolutions
For equality
For freedom
Fall here
In the caves of mind
Of some cunning foxes…
…
One per day
If killed and cooked
Will go for four births
Sheeps…mere sheeps…
….
Shepherd less
Deaf sheeps…
Peeping
Only to reproduce
Impotent Sheeps…
…
..
His one head
Doing black magic
Would drive
The ten headed
Disturbance of the epic
Out of the boundary…
…
Loosing senses
Loosing virtue
Loosing destiny
Standing in street
Even then
Conspiring to destroy
And to become the Lord…
What will happen
To his destiny hereafter?
…
..
He is
The biggest sorrow
Of the so far
Born crores…
…and
The biggest sorrow
Of the upcoming crores..
I’d say wholeheartedly
And happily
Or even angrily…
Listen…
“A drop of poison
That pollutes
The ocean of milk…”
He is..
He is…
…
“Uprooting
Out of the city
Out of the world
Carefully
Minutely
Torture him to death”
I’d say…
..
His murder…
Would postpone
So many suicides…
…
This is
A mercy killing that
Would bring
Hundreds of virtue
…
..
The next dawn..
Let it be without him…
Pure wind and
Comfortable Sun
Will dawn delicious…
…
The remains
The night of his birth
Will end by today…
He may come back too…
He will sprout every cut..
Don’t astonish..
…
..
Bending for
Knocks and knocks
Is enough..
Look above!
Ask vigorously!
Have self dignity!
Let the upcoming world
Be without Remains…
Without left -overs and balances
..
We are the fighters
Of twisters…
We are the magnanimous
Incarnations
Ignoring the thorns
On the path
Those pierce the feet
On the way to battle…
Our success tomorrow…
Is certain..
And final too…
Remains add taste sometimes
Sometimes spoil the taste too..
Remains spoil the taste sometime…
…
..
.
