As Indian English
And if it is, say you,
Where is it spoken,
Whose mother tongue is it,
Who an Englishman
In India
And even if one is
Will turn dark-skinned
After living over the years
In utter disgust
Facing heat and dust,
Will have to resort to
Vyom Bhole Shankar
Afger smoking ion ganja
From chilum
Like the mendicant?
The same fanatic lying fanatical overThe years, the passage of time,Ages gone by,The same oldie, awkward and bizarre manHas not changed he,The same old guy blindTo logic and reason,The same conservative and orthodox man,The world will change, but he will not,The same fanatic thinking fanatically,Dividing human race and mankind,Thinking in terms of religion, not humanity.
Giver and Taker of Life.
Poetry poetry, poetry is poetry for meAnd I coming out of the houseIn my search forBuddhas,The Buddhas,Made by the artisansAcross the borders,Crossing over Ladakh, Arunachal and SikkimTo be in Tibet, China, Myanmar, Japan,Mongolia, Hongkong, Cambodia,Indonesia, Sri LankanAnd the golden Buddhas, cast in goldAnd other metals,In clay, pottery and other models,Striking and flashing upon,The monasteries soHoly…
Say you?If he is bad,Too much bad,What will you?If the son is a bad boy,Very bad boyWho hears you not,Does what he likes,What shall I do?
Will save usJesus,Lord Jesus!
Rocks and stones,Rocks, stones and trees;Of the landscapesFull of ups and downs.I had not been silent,Silent,All silent,They made me, turned me toAnd went I silent,Silencing myself.My silence was the silenceForced to take on,My silence was the silenceOf elegies and obituariesAnd I had been busy writing with themAnd I confided in.After the all commotion,Ruffle and rustle,Saw…
