Archive

Archive for September, 2009

Something For You-4

September 26th, 2009

 

Palm Scroll

 

Come, read the palm scroll,

Words, inked tears

Steep into its folds,

Be my muse, wild woman-

Painted desires

Vibrant streaks of blood

On a python totem-

The mark of the Red Goddess of love!

 

On your forehead, vermilion?

Tell me,

With what name shall I welcome

The bride of poverty-

Into this nest

Did love ever have a religion?

Transcend death, does love at all?

Grass always grows over the grave,

The copper body that lived so long,

Now history

Wail woman,

Your tears in red ink,

On the palm scroll

 

Plastic Poet

26 Sep 2009

Something For You-3

September 21st, 2009

 

IT IS NOT SO

 

Some Sunday

When I’m young again

I’ll write you to find out how you have been-

Your frenzied lips and dutiful skin

Your pleated skirts- moods to tease the volcano

When we are young again

I’ll kiss your cheek and say that I have learnt something

Some Sunday

It would be the paradise humming within

Like bits of cloud, the raindrops-

On blatant portals of amorous thoughts

Finally coming in thick squints

The suicidal moon- you test a darker complexion

And breasts heavy with gravity

Out of nowhere a sudden scar

Faint gallops of rhetorical moist lips

Rocking on lounge chairs

Watching flesh burning hot

You're too predictable

Turning in through

Dishonest doors, indifferent windows

And shadows in the pillows

Sunday morning stripping the Barbie

Watching beautiful hard lines of flesh

Voids, misplaced dominoes

Strangers at every corner with lipstick on

And the radiance of careless words

Buying, eyeing obvious vanities

Malfunctions in touch- grenades

You tried to tell me how beautiful it was

To be like live torn stockings cheating up cold legs

Obvious vagabonds- fingers sans eyes cruising

Some Sunday when I’m young again

I’ll write you to find out how you have been-

It is not so, the future

Is unseen, of Sundays within

 

Plastic Poet

21 Sep 2009

D Holy C

September 20th, 2009

Cow Dung Lanes

With brash cows displaying quadrupled braless udders

People really cannot help but stand and exude the shudders

Also do ponder if cows do leave the grass bed flowers

When emitting flatulent gases along with fibrous showers

And then they stare and share the copper's plight

Holding up traffic when meeting the bull's delight

And they come to stand amidst the Cantonment roads,

Bovine Goddesses, the stud bull's whores- if moral codes

Could confine offending bovines into jail, babies will yell

Blood curling cries if their mom's are not feeding them well

Though at midnight roads one can see dying motorcyclists

Who have hit black buffalos on the streets, and shaking fists

Of drivers of cars rammed into the bums of serene cows

Whose horns better be inside the milkmen's arses somehow-

The latter sell water with milk and phenyl mixed oil

At hefty rates, and sweetly smile when babies have boils

Moo! They say, it is pure milk from the braless udders

Of ISO 9000 standards, certified by their dairy mate brothers

Holy cows stand and grin, and seek shelter in the rain

On your porches, settle down and sometimes illness feign

Now there is nary a football field sans the dog and the bovine

Whenever there is no tourney running- by divine design

And the municipal bosses would not like election losses

So they never move the cows, but grin at the party bosses

It is just the cow the public loves to be kept on the streets

For that helps build up traffic jams and political meets

Why should street sweepers be paid to clean the streets?

Ad nauseum the argument goes- the slum kids join the cows

To defecate at liberty, from morning six-thirty on the roadside

And then wiggle their bums with water, then behind cows hide

Of course we have the road dividers and children's parks too

Where the Bovine Goddesses congregate, chew cuds and moo

Innocent calves, elderly matrons, cows en mass they lily's chew

If the gardener objects, they shamelessly stand and gore him too!

On election day- for the cows' councils, the bulls too join for fun

Hapless riders of scooters that thud bullish buttocks are in turn done

With tramples and made perfect examples- trousers on a horn

India, born of cows, just stands watches the bleeding low born

Who fired the bovine ire, and moves on- death by cow's horns is good

Our cows just stand, while the streets are sprayed with former food

And Divine pee, while the braless udders of our holy mothers

Fill with the next day's fill of the white liquid, O Cow Bred Brothers!

Call the priests- the quadruple udder beasts can do no wrong,

And our Yaduvansh laughs, money in banks, hearts on a song!

Plastic Poet

20 Sep 2009

Something for You

September 19th, 2009



 

Something for you

 
Where from does the firefly
Seek love from wells gone dry?
Of tears shed
Wandering arms spread for you
Wizened old eyes
Wither more in the fall,
Winter drags more than ever
Passions of dread
When ashes from the hearth spread
Your eyes leave so much unsaid,
Just the shivers of an evening lost
In passion that came and fled
In torrents, unspent, within the throbs
Wither went all that heat
And the flickers of flames that once were
The brilliance we sought?
Where from does the fiery fairy
Beseech my love- I am long removed
From your time and space
Afloat in limbo, a long undead
Whisper reminds there was me, in your heart
That insane wants of Now, coiled like  centipedes
Strummed spasms
Hear mine
Words of a long gone past,
In a delicious blur
 
Plastic Poet
19 Sep 2009

Something for You

September 18th, 2009

 

Something for You
 

Something glimmered,
In amber glass
Butterflies- in sunbeams
Turned into iridescent beings-
In the evening sky
In opal glimmer of velvet wings
Azure and silver mariposa
Once of the September air,
Mercurial wings- now fixed forever,
Your moods, visions of unexplored valleys
Frozen in the vase,
The desires of your enamored soul-
Bare hearts, unlatched in crystal panes
In passion
Of vague tenderness and pale moonlit nights
I brood, watching your silence,
Not a word-
Something glimmers,
A dancing pair,
Tinkling clockwork hearts
 

 
Plastic Poet
18 Sep 2009

Wrong Number!

September 8th, 2009

Ring, Ring!

 

Ring, ring!

The cell rang for the umpteenth time last night!

 

For the umpteenth time we talked alas at cross purpose, being very cross with each other!

 

"Hullooo kon bolechhu"

"Nahi samajhta tumhara bhasha aunty"

"Aap kaun bolta hai"

"Aunty aapko kissay baat karna hai?"

Khataack! The caller disconnected!

 

Ring, ring!

The cell rang for the umpteenth plus once again!

 

For the umpteenth time plus once, we spoke, at a very cross purpose!

 

"Hullooo kon bolechhu"

"Nahi samajhta tumhara bhasha aunty"

"Aap kaun bolta hai"

"Aunty aapko kissay baat karna hai?"

"Itney baar phone kiya number sahi nahi milta"

"Aunty number apne aap badlega nahi na, aap ab sab so gaya na!"

"Hulloo, kon bolechu?"

 

Ring, ring!

I switched off the cell phone!

 

This morning

Ring, ring! The landline number!

 

My daughter, busy feeding her little baby, picked up the phone, rather absentmindedly!

"Sahab hain?" A serious sounding guy on the line- No names asked. I was upstairs. She yelled hard! The baby, startled, started wailing loud.

 

"Sir I am Vinod Sharma"

"Hello Mr. Sharma, what can I do?"

"Sir, what about my flat- when would you give possession?"

I started laughing, I presume, ominously!

"Sorry Mr. Shammer, I have no flats for you- you have come in too late for the sale"

"Sir, you must be joking"

"No, Mr. Vee, I am serious!"

"But you see "

"There is nothing to see in this phone"

"Sir, I am not talking of the phone sir "

"Then?"

"Sir I am talking of the deal!"

"Deal? Mr. Sharma, we never struck a deal at all!"

"Sir, now Sir, please do not make me angry "

"Mr Shammington "

"No I am not Mr. Shammington, I am Sharma, Vinod Sharma"

"Oye Sharma, since when have you become Mr. Sharma to me?"

"Sir where are you now?"

"I am at home "

"Sir this is urgent, I have to visit you"

"Mr. Shampoo, I can't let you come to my home. I am busy- and I have a class in twenty minutes time."

"Sir, since when have you started taking classes?

"As long as I can remember, since 2001, after I left the Army"

"But sir, what about our deal?"

"Mr. Somebody, what deal I do not remember any deal!"

"Sir, please sir, I am getting nervous sir!"

"And I am getting irritated! I do not have any deal with any Mr. Bandit Summer"

"Sir, it is Vinod Sharma"

"Ah Mr. Bindo Shama, I do not have a deal with you at all!"

"Sir I have to meet you at your office!"

"Mr. Bandicoot Slumber, I do not have an office"

"Sir, we made the deal in your office remember? I am wetting my pant sir, don't steal my money please- please hand over the flat to me"

"Listen, I last went to office in 2000. I sold my flat three years back- I do not have a flat to sell, Mr. Verma"

"Sir Sharma"

"What is Sirsharma?"

"Sir, uh Sharma, Sharma Sir!"

"Yes Mr Surma Sharma, what do you want from me?"

"Sir, the keys to the flat!"

"But Mr. Suraiya, I do not have the keys to the flat- I handed over the keys three days after the registration of sale "

"Sir, you mean to say you have sold the flat twice?"

"Mr. Jughead, I am telling you for the last time, I have sold the flat ONCE, hey what was the name? Ah Mr. Rajan Billimoria, in August 2006!

 "Sir I have the registered deal too, with you Mr. Lalwani"

"Lalwani! Lalwani! Who is Lalwani?"

"Sir I am speaking to you Sir!"

"But I am not Lalwani"

"You are not Mr. Lalwani the builder?"

"No Mr. Surana, I am not Lalwani the builder, not Lalwani the Advani, nor Mehtani, nor Ratanchandani"

"Sir, WHAT IS YOUR NAME?"

"Wrong number!"

 

Wrong Number? I wondered what kind of a name is Wrong Number!

 

Ring, ring!

"Yes?"

"This is Lalwani speaking, can I have the contract, Mr. Mehta?"

"Ah, contract with Mr. Vinod Sur er Sharma?"

"Yes, quick "

"Sir but I am in Jabalpur Sadar Cantt now!"

"And where do you think I am"

"I think you are sitting with Mr. Bhatti Sir!"

"Mr. Bhatti?"

"Yes Sir he had come with the other Income Tax guys he has taken away the files-"

"Where to?"

"To the Income Tax Office"

"And what are you doing now?"

"Sir, I am behind the lock up sir!"

"Hey Ram!!! Wait- wait let me get it straight what are you doing now?"

"I am writing the FIR against Mr. Wrong Number, at the Sadar Police Station."

"Hey Ram I am ruined ” I could hear him speak in the background… “Mr. Sharma, your file is in the police station!"

 

Ring, ring!

My daughter was laughing so much that her baby woke up with a start

"Baba, stop doing this to people!"

 

"Wrong Number!"

I kept the phone down!

 

Plastic Poet

08 Sep 2009

Flash Back

September 2nd, 2009

Trinity

 

There is just one of me

And so many others

You, her and she

When we meet, please let me know

Is that you with me?

When I think of you, I think of her

Sitting so close, I can see,

I ask her,

Would she love, won't she!

So it is- of you there are three

You are a trinity,

You, her and she,

I kiss you when I miss her

She just squirms and says it feels good,

I can feel you throbbing

And she is in the mood!

I wonder whatever happens,

I give a rose

To her it is the only gift

She smiles happily,

I can see her blushing

And you will ask for more!

There is just one of me

Three dreams lie within

And you are a trinity

You, her and she

 

Plastic Poet

09 Jan 2007

 

Shameless

September 1st, 2009

 

Shameless

 

A pair of clouds

A shroud

And the rest stacked

In your handbag

Wear out

Whatever suits you!

 

My love, the lonely one

Burn

Like a wick, devoid

Of oil, charring finally

Like the kiss

With a sarcastic rasp

Of a hungry kite in the sky

 

In the south side window

The blue wind

Steals the show

When the dreams run away

From deep set wounds-

Festering lies,

A shameless pair

My eyes!

 

Plastic Poet

01 Sep 2009