Rat Race

 If they ever tell you that you will
get to a point, in a sinister manner
a point where your name will be
permanently struck of the register
of those seeking redemption,
yield to temptation. Believe them. 

For heaven's sake, what would
a man actively seeking his destruction,
hope for?
There are only so many things to be grateful
for, yet focus on the same things
that have born nothing but angst,
self-loathe,
self-hate
and when nothing seems to work,
the very man stares at his own bleak existence
the existence that he made
and wishes there was a hand that hoist him
of the hole
that has become a rat race. 

If there ever tell you
that you may amount to nothing
believe them.
In you, they are battling their own existential
struggles
and your failure might make them feel better about
their sorry existence

Silence

 Silence. 

Sometimes you crave it, sometimes you don't 

Sometimes its liberating, sometimes it imprisons 

Silence. 

A lover's nightmare, 

A jilted love's bliss. 

Silence. 

Sometimes it gives hope, 

Sometimes it strangles it, 

You oscillate between hope 

and despair 

Silence is not a dream 

Silence does not obey laws of the stream

It lives on its own terms 

Yet treats and harms

Dancing To A Song of Fools

 tell me any one tale 

full woes quite avoidable 

like Chipchos and his friends...

the have danced around fire 

plenty of times, 

each time getting burns to 

what medical doctors call degrees 

Chipchos seems to decreed to die young

broke and miserable 

for each time he gets burned, 

he goes back again 

because he likes to dance around fire, 

he says anything you love doing is 

worth overdoing, 

his lifelong mantra is that moderation is for cowards 

Truth In The Rain

We stood in unbearable rain 

In the pursuit of truth, 

It did not seem so vain 

As contacting god from telephone booth 

Not knowing drove us insane 

We had an inkling, a slight hint 

a candle on the window vane 

i flicker in the night, a glint 

 

It might not have been 

Truth is, truth hurts 

In the end we may never win 

Either way, we may be broken into parts 

Barbarians in White

It began with a whiff from a distant land, 

A vast ocean lay between, 

And to conquer it a fool's errand, 

It did not deter them explorers, 

The braved the oceans with nothing as 

much as a compass, 

And they came to a brave new world, 

and discovered people who did not look like, 

their unassuming ways dismissed as primitive 

And they killed thousands, 

They occupied lands never theirs - they did not even 

want to share - the darn ungrateful sojourners

And then came a new language, 

A new religion, 

And concepts such as democracy introduced 

to a people did not need it, 

And they called those who wanted their land back barbarians 

The white barbarians stayed and made foreign lands their homes 

And the repercussions are still felt today, Centuries after

The Old Man's Talk

 The old man spoke slowly, 

and deliberately, 

a penetrating gazed fixed one me, 

He said "you are not depressed, 

it is a white man's word, 

an excuse of sorts, 

to create psychiatrists, and counsellors

perhaps sell drugs for Big Pharma

You are sad that you are meeting that objective, 

You are not depressed, 

You are just broke

and with a huge void of discontent inside you

you wish you could be somewhere else, 

living another life."  

you've watched too much TV, 

you've consciously let yourself to your ruin, 

you've realized your ruins 

and it is unsightly - you want a quick fix, 

a lottery - 

young man, you do not need a lottery, 

even if you get one, it won't rescue you"

Of Heaven and Earthly Bills

Once heaven looked like a good destination, 

one that you would only see when you permanently 

close your eyes, 

and a heap of soil stacked over you - of course if you are 

lucky

We believed, because we needed to believe in something, 

We needed to believe something that assures as a shred of immortality 

Who wouldn't to live forever? 

 

On Sundays, when going to church was part of the school routine 

Just like eating, we trooped to church and sung 

Our little hearts incredibly joyous 

For it was the only time you would be singled out for a beating,

at least no then, 

 Heaven was within our grasp 

Years later, we realize that no one tells you 

that you have to pay bills as you wait to go to heaven, 

and the wait is pretty darn long