Bargaining for Hope

 Did we ever have to bargain 

for a shred of hope? 

Did we ever have to look at 

the distant horizon, 

And plead with our calloused hands?

Yes, once, twice...

four...seventy times 

And we still do 

We are bargaining for a millionth of hope 

A grain of hope 

So that the nights does not seem longer.

And the days harsher 

Did we commit unforgivable sins?

Maybe...

May be we lied to merchants of hope 

Or angels that ferried hope 

Or we kicked poor scrawny animals 

That came with good tidings 

We do not know 

Hence we toil

Maybe today we our children won't sleep hungry 

The River

 It still flows, 

a river seeking vain shores 

sleek in its meanders, 

over rocks, 

flowing, 

an endless chuckle of water, 

uniting with the bird's songs 

songs that sound like distant dirges 

it flows like a vulture, 

circling above - waiting 

waiting for an imminent death. 

Against Will

The sun pours its light on unwanted dreams

Scorching it, withering its sweet bloom

The scents of the dream slowly recede

To oblivion, or withdrawn by gods in charge of scents

Always – always – against one’s will

Nothing New

 What's new under the sun?

Isn't what you consider new 

existed thousands years ago?

Isn't you new love someone's ex?

Or a person he or she grew tired being around 

So tired that their breathing irritated them

Nothing is new, 

Not you, not me 

We are all second hand goods 

whether we like or not 

Because someone like you has existed in the course of time

Live your life - it was preordained 

Live Again

 When chicken go home to roost

We will rise to raise our cocks 

And let them crow the entire night 

Or take off in debauched flights 

So What

 What does it mean to me?

Even when it feels the whole world to you

It can't be you, you can't be 

We can't see the world with the same eyes 

Unless I poke yours 

The Eff Up Artist

I knead headaches like a seasoned chef

I marinate disappointment as if it was chicken

I serve cocktails of frustrations

Because, somehow, I have learnt the art

Of not giving a damn

And when history of ‘effing’ is finally written

All my names shall occupy the first four places

Because, when you serve me my poison

I become an artiste –

An ‘effing’ greatest ‘eff’ up artistes

I just can’t help – I have tried a thousand times

The artiste in me looms like a colossus

I can’t ignore him