Someday.
My poetry I shall read lying in my arm chair
And your poetry you will lying in your arm chair,
Calling ourselves great poets and poetesses.
I shall call in an adman for anchoring
And my book will be launched as thus
With the media personalities sitting before.
Maybe it that the book will not see the press,
But will be released on the websites
And a no-man I shall one day forget them too,
I mean those who have given me a breakthrough.
Texas,Thank you, Trump,Senators,Howdy, Modi?What can this Modi do itAll alone, friends and brothers?Howdy, Modi? ,Howdy, Modi? ,Means it,I am fine,You are fine,Modi is fine,As India is,America isAnd none butYou have made it.Friends, everything in India fine.Friends, unity in diversityIs our life,A land of variety,Different speeches and differencesIn food habits and attires.We aim at development,Rural upliftment,…
Who is missing since longAnd my profile there just to trace her, trace her,To find out the whereabouts of the missing girl,I open the Facebook just to see her.
Sketch,Sketch I him,Photograph,Photograph IThe personality of his,A man who has stood forThe freedom of speech and expressionIn the worldWith his guts admirable.
Have not forgotten you,I want to,Want to danceTo enjoy!Michael,Michael Jackson,The earth slipping,Slipping behind my legsAnd lo,Lo, I am dancing!
ItWhat,What it is,It is in your heart,HeartJust see you,See you from far,From far,One known from far,Far from,Not moving close,Closer to you!
At some roadside dhaba,Tadaka, munga pulse unhuskedAnd fat handmade breadBut oiled and fried and sauced.And with salad?Where is he taking tadaka and tandooriAnd gossiping aboutGirls, love, sex and marriageAnd jokes,Unbridled jokes too,Boxing below the bellyAnd bursting into a laughter?Taking it all with salad, chutney, sauceSpices and pickle,Kucch khattei-kucch mitthei,Something sweet, something sourAs do the memories…
