The Book Merchant & The Girl

My legs hurt as I hide the tear
Dropping down this wrinkled face, my dear
How much longer will this old man
How much longer will he and can?
Buy these books that I sell
Buy them and I will tell
The story of my morbidly aching back
Oh why do you look at me like you’ll attack?

I try my best to look away
Yet he looks, ogles at my hair sway
Look, I’ve had a lover or two
And you’re not my type, let it through
Stop your gaze and do some good
Be a gentleman as everyone should
Your hairless head and disfigured face
Should be enough to make my case

Since yesterday evening I’ve sold just one
I make a rupee and my dinner isn’t done
Buy this book please my lord
It’ll be the food that I can afford
The sun is harsh and has made me weak
My death bed is near and I shall no more seek
Nor wealth nor home, that’s not what I need
A sip of water and bowl of rice, a mere day’s feed

I’ll make sure you know I’ve noticed you stare
Look at me again with your idiotic glare
Now I’ll turn for good, and give it away
For Gods sake, know your place and stay
You’re old and desperate for love, I say,
Why not go to a harem where the girl will be okay
With your creepy looks and balding head
She’ll go down, up and even ahead

My lord, I beg you now
In months I haven’t lit my stove
My body is giving up, and my mind too
Buy one book, and I’ll give you a clue
There’s a bigger destiny here and I surely know
Once you have a book, I’ll gladly show
Like a receding dark rain cloud in the skies
Our destinies are in tightly knit knots and ties

“Go away old man”, I said with my charming looks
I don’t want to buy any of your stupid books
Your pale white skin is getting on my nerve
Move away, and let me see the damsel with the nice curve
These roses ought to be fine I claimed
I proposed and she sorely said,
“You’re ugly, but I still stood”
“If only you’d bought the books from my grandpa, you ugly dud.”

The Song of the Raging Sea

Only the tumult of a raging sea,
rocking our boats to places it needn’t be,
who dares whisper a few good words and conciliate?
For mighty is her resolve, and feeble her invaders.

I

Beating against our aged wooden hulls,
her stories she forces us listen,
of conquerors who’ve tried quelling her ire
and soldiers who wished not to partake.
Songs of past surface under the raging storm,
as she cries louder into the setting sun,
and our vessels are but dumb dots,
lost in a mighty gale, drifting away with no desire.
The heavens gather, to listen to her fables,
that which needs be told to every sailor passing.
She sings, in a majestic low soprano,
that the men have made merry in her midst,
carrying goods of war and crime,
that her song is the only redemption, she roars
in a frightening contralto.

II

The old few those who’ve listened with care,
warned us of her ire before we sailed away.
Like seasons weathering old rocks to dust, their lore,
distant and washed away,
little did the forgotten wisdom give us hand,
our wet faces, now bereft of any realization,
piecing the parts only to fail.
In the frantic cadence of her waves,
in her wild cosmic dance,
in the fearful tremors of her ballad,
we solemnly pray for the tale to twist our way,
to the young and true, she’ll say,
listen again, listen again!
That your understanding of this divine tale,
of man and his destiny shall see the light of day.

III

In a desperate bid for a final confluence,
we merged a raft from parts of the now wrecked hull.
She is the canvas for our dreams,
in her we float free like in our mothers’ wombs,
her story too ambitious to comprehend, we let go,
and like a violin soundtrack to God’s elegy,
her rage turns to deep sorrow.
The last voice of this universe,
like the distant hymns of a hindu sage,
she sings the song of the raging sea.

I see you now

When to the nether worlds you elope
When on the lands beneath you tread
I see you, sore and forlorn

You are freedom and you are fire
Why then have you forgotten your place
Among gods, bathed in divinity

You are an explorer, a pioneer
Why then do you not rise with the sun
Shine bright like the stars in the breathless sky

When hope pervades your heart
When bliss isn’t far
I see you, eager and spirited

To that which you can be
To worlds you cannot fathom in the dark
Be the light, be the light

Rest not until you are awake
Fear not until you are alive
I see you now, I see you now

Love, Conquer, Bliss

Light, reason, we see those times,
Over ends as reached, through means unknown,
Vile men conquer on as we honest forlorn,
Ever be joy, bliss, you solitary soul.

Long nights stay, and lovers separate,
Of these pitiful days you say not,
Veer thy mind and body, veer to the good, veer!
Ever be joy, bliss, you solitary soul.

Lost in time, lost among doers bad,
Out you come, rise, rise above this broken land,
Vast lands await unseen, conquer, be vile!
Ever be joy, bliss, you solitary soul.

Ire That Fired Madmen Kickass!

I be the fire storm, doomed forever
I be the rage, shall deeply requiem,
to lie more, abhor, betray forever,
for ever, shall punish haughty bastards,
cocky scuzzy atheist dawdlers!

——————————————————————————————-

I was thinking about abusing lethargy in a satire, but somehow ended up with the above poem. My idea was to embody myself as an incarnation of ire, fire and all things red, and see what happens when this force of fury comes in contact with a Sunday afternoon fool who’s obliviously lazing around.

However, the above piece turned out quite differently, and I leave it up to you to really decide what’s happening up there (maybe it’s something, and maybe it’s nothing) – but don’t forget to figure out the Fibonacci series and some Arithmetic Progression hidden in the words above!

A Cataclysmic Candor Of A Possibly Broken Kind

The system, I have not broken.
The system, I haven’t understood.
It is in this system that I live in, parts and full.
And to this system that I say, oh you crooked beast!

What is this system you ask?
What of it, and what within?
Who makes it, who breaks it, when and why?
Yes, to this bloody system I say, oh you bestial beast!

In its path, it preys on relentless,
Ferocious and Unforgiving it relishes the weak,
A curse unfolding and forever, it is but a monstrous menace.
And to you, my dear filthy love I say, oh you malignant beast!

In its candor I see chaos.
In its candor I see peace.
Of those who have transcended this system, come set me free.
Yes, my love, my life, my religion, my kind, oh you filthy beast!

Who am I, and who am I really to say,
To hearsay lore and hitherto unknown,
You bag of banal bore and yet unfathomably occult,
To your days and seasons I say, oh you cabalistic beast!

Are you broken? Are you madness? Are you the answer?
Are you freedom? Are you reason? Are you the way?
Are you my ride to a heavenly abode of joy, are you?
Let me in on your secrets, oh you deific beast!

This is your system, your way of life,
In your religion, In your devilry, let me see light,
Hellish paths can be conquered but for your say,
Let me in, oh you! You magnificent beast!

Your praise I’ll sing, Your word I’ll spread,
Your darkness I’ll let linger and light pervade,
You are God, you are wisdom,
I will be your servant, oh you opulent beast!

I will live, I will die, I will pass unknown,
I will see, I will tell, I will pass unheard.
I will be joy, I will be sadness, I will pass undone.
You and I, and this system, we’re the beasts of life unsung.

Tides That Swept Tor – Part I

In the year of Ninety Nine, there was a singer in the town of Tor,
Loud was his voice and clear his throat, he sung all night by the shore,
Over and over, almost forever, his ballads calmed the people and the sea,
Vile monsters that roamed far north, dared not come by Tor and be,
Else the melancholy strain their hearts and it be corroded away!
Per house in tor, in temple and church, fathers and mothers say,
Old Singer by the shore, respect him kids, for he’s the paladin unsung,
Entrenched in his shack, old as the southern mountains yet young,
Today his song, deep in its wisdom, and of ancient lore,
Reverberated the town of Tor; every boy, girl and adult wanted more!
Yet his pain, unknown and uncared, everyone knew not of ’em.