I wanted acceptance
instead I fell into the deep hole
of revelation

I desired love and
found poetry walking with my
cross heavy on my shoulders

I wrote poems and rolled away the stone
Jesus was weeping inside
bleeding at the thought of nails

angry with just cause I joined a group of saints
on a pilgrimage across the desert
of our humanity

we stopped at a well and here I saw myself
for the first time
thirsty and covered with ten thousand years

tears filled my absence

Inspired by Tunisian uprising
Arab spring rose to a crescendo
Violence and death trailed along
Like soup pot sitting on fire
The content moved up and down
Topsy turvy, they rocked with heat
Martyrs bunt black and thrown away

Eroded middle class clad in uncertainty
The poor dwells in shallow graves
Wireless calls, a march to city centers
Wall Street took a peaceful lead
See multiplicity of suffering people
Intrigues and politics on human lives
World economy skewed in shambles

Olden years are cast in gold
Like firm memories
They stay for eons
Yet seem as fresh, as the morning dew
Then as we recall
A ball of can bursts
We see light anew,
As we retread over memories past

Recall the Hiroshima twas as if just yesterday
Some memories never fade away
And
Till the ultimate day we feel like twas just
A happening of today
Happy 1942 to you
And
Many more shall come your way,
This only Loved can pray and say.

the cat is asleep
under the sink
in a cubby she found
dark and discrete

while lazing away
the day-light in dreams
a troupe of mice
practice and preen

little they know
during her doze
she hears the dance
of little mice toes

when night arrives
she awakes with a grin
promenades to the ball
and the slaughter begins

1944

Where are the winter snows
the Christmas trees with silver tears
color lights that glow
under golden angel hair
the scent of pine lingering in the air
and cold crisp nights around the radio

who stole my years.
I want to know
and where did the old folks go.
where are the winter snows
the wreath of pine on the side door.
where is the boy of three
why was he left behind
in nineteen forty four

Memories of mamas
Never fade away
Till we similarly
Pass the same way

My mom smiles at me
Since her very last day
I still keep returning her way
Oh ! Lord when will time
Take my smile away?

Come back mama
For once
And
as we smile
Take me smilingly
your smiles way,
miles away

I was just reviewing the fact, notwithstanding only one

Condemning me,
Has my poetry reached the masses?
Poetry I say, you may say,
PROSAIC

I saw almost hundred percent poems composed by me,
Had been read
And
The ones I supplemented in my BLOGS,
Which, because of my prolificacy, was banned here,
I saw almost hundred percent Blog poems,
Had not had, a single read

So I thought tis better to convert,
Blogs into poems,
Though composed eons ago
Hence this teen agers one

Question !!!
Why do so many men think with their dicks?
these guys are just pricks

They have wives and partners
That should put them off for starters
But it doesn't

They profess to care for their lovers
And yet still love their spouses
What gives?

I say when you think with your cock
You better take stock
Because you up for the chop. 

When fire flares up in the bush or house
Be careful with what you use to put it out
It could well be just an additional fuel
That may shoot up everything out of control

Excesses escalate into extremity in jihad
And holy crusade becomes a child’s play
Generations of able men, women and children
Wasted away like rain flood in hollow pits

some seek for a grasp of infinity
through the supposed god of the trinity
which frankly bears no affinity
to this mythology known as divinity

one can get close to the vicinity
with the joyous loss of virginity
and no shame of your masculinity
if we embrace the planet with dignity