PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Another new year, another cycle of hope,

The sky gets higher for every rope,

Climbers, like denizens lost in jungles,

Are caught in a maze, civilisation stumbles.



To what state have we reduced ourselves,

In our bid to be tallest, we have become elves,

Everything is circling around as pre-ordained,

Only mankind has become despised and disdained.



Let me not stare at the night stars anymore,

For years I have tried to patch up wounds, sore,

Let me not talk about values with anyone,

Let me also become a red spot on the sun.



Beasts have hidden themselves afraid and frightened,

Insects do not come out, every grass leaf is burdened,

Logs with toadstools amid thick black mud,

Refuse to give way to the light-seeking bud.



My friends laugh at me to see me out of tune,

With the music they play as a clown on the moon,

Looks down and makes the gorillas dance wildly,

And leeches and vampires get crazier and merry.



You go for your swim in the murky water,

Of an ocean that was once crystal blue matter,

While I watch you trying to avoid the swamps,

Or shout for help at your first yell of cramps.



My long distance friend in shores far beyond,

Dabbles in Haiku; compares life with a pond,

I can’t be consistent in our on line chat,

As I hear the shriek of the blood-sucking bat.



Deserts with dunes or the starry Milky Way:

I know it will be hard to show you your way,

Every sign of nature I can read on palms,

Yet I can’t be a healer with comforting balms.



Volcanoes erupt as hurricanes come and go,

Destroying everything in this tornado show,

Killing punches delivered below the belt,

Agonising eyes crunch a life-pot does melt.



Looking at the morons who are crazy for power,

Leaves me gazing helpless on a lighthouse tower,

Wolves seek refuge and hyenas have hidden,

As homo sapiens enjoy the forbidden.



What joy must I feel in this time of gloom?

Why don’t you leave me alone in my room?

Where hope lights its candles to search for the rope,

That may save humanity from sinking down the slope.



O beloved, sleeping soundly in a citadel of glass,

Spare a dream to listen to the verses of 'Ikhlaas',*

The pens have been broken and the scrolls have been rolled,

Why then toil to convert base stuff into gold?



In this brazen white-teethed world of men and women,

I save myself from the taint of cannibalistic semen,

For, I know full well that the language I speak,

Cannot be understood by any sex-craving freak.



That is why I prefer to sing in the dark,

When there is nobody lurking to sulk or to stalk,

That is why I love to talk with the goldfish,

And watch dawn glowing bright in its wondrous dish.



Then only, for a while, a silvery light flickers,

Somewhere in the curls of this era’s white whiskers,

A flicker that may make you all grasp what I mean,

And take you with me to the Eden I have been.



*Ikhlaas is the name of a chapter in The Holy Quran. It means sincerity.