AND THERE ARE

There are commons fixing fences for us
There are gurus fermenting lives for us
There are hatchers cooking lives for us.
And there are
Those all whom you know
Those all who you know but recall not
Those all whom you crave not to recall at all.
And there are
Things that you loved to play with
Things that were of the finest gifts couriered to you
Things that you always wished to present to
Things that you loved to hate
Things that you hated to love.
And there are
Thoughts which squeezed your childhood
Thoughts which you shared on your fairy walks
Thoughts which ignited your dampness
Thoughts which you breathed out to change a hundred lives around
Thoughts which encroached into your id.
And there are
Theatres where characters chameleonise at every stroke of midnight
Theatres where bondages are bounded over decades and broken overnight
Theatres where wired clowns are baked on biddings
Theatres where mules are cloned and human skin tanned
Theatres where mediocre tangle with the bourgeois.
And there are
Thatches full of Somalian skeletons and Ugandan skulls hung all over
Thatches painted in African blood shades
Thatches ornamented with the oriental empty earthen hungry bowls
Thatches across euroamerica with reinforced steel and cemented beams,pillars and beams
Thatches with golden canopies down the stairs of world bank with civilized beggars.
And there are
Thinkers who really thought over their heads and difference they made
Thinkers who really didn’t boil their heads yet difference they made
Thinkers who were buried alive ‘coz though tugged for Utopian reality
Thinkers who sneaked, demolished and demised in the orbital pull
Thinkers who woke up erupted like Fujiyama under the scorching sun.
And there are
Thugs flicking and flicking and flicking and flicking
Thugs being caught and beaten up released and felicitated ‘gain
Thugs with empty bellies they go daintily raising arms for alms
Thugs baptized to be put into the gentleman’s list
Thugs licensed to ease inside parliaments, assemblies and august chairs.

CHE

Is born
Born in the thick greens of Bolivia
Beware! All the agents of the new world;
Che is born-
Born in the deserts of Atakama
Born in the jungles of Mississippi
Born in the Sahyadri hills
Born in the Siberian colds
Born in the skyscrapers of choicago
Born in the dark world,
Be ware! All the machine men;
Che is born-
Westerlies will retreat
Monsoons will retreat
Tornadoes will retreat
All shall assemble at Leningrad
Alight here till the bell rings
Disperse we shall
To the hamlets and megalopolis
To the huts and city heights
To the oil fields of gulf and Wall street
Soil troughs are borrowed to reverberate
Seeds are sprouting
And the sunflowers facing the east.
Che is born-
Beware the bulls!

RON ATCHISON from Sanfransisco has the following comments:


Ron Atchison
Inspiration Peak

Joined: Nov. 2001
Posts: 120
Location: San Francisco
Now Reading: The People's History of the World - by Howard Zinn

Posted: April 15, 2007, 8:15 pm

Hello Sanjeev....

I just wanted to comment on this poem 'Che'.... it's powerful and beautifully written... and most of all, I think it's the most 'readable' of all the poems you've shared with us. I think it's so important that poems be written in a way that the masses, the 'everyday joes', the working people can appreciate - especially poems of a political nature.

All my best to you friend!

Ron
Inspiration Peak


Edited by Ron Atchison on April 15, 2007, 8:29 pm.

BEING RULED

Gaudy with grotesque countenance
Roll calls uphilled for bricking mansions
Fisted the white and balck walling 'gainst
Lashing the star over the gigantic barrack awaits!

Black panther curled briskly ventures to crawl
Three billion rats will sneak in
Which skyscraper would sponsor the pidepipers,
How many might they bid for!

MUSINGS OFAN UNSOLICITED EARLY MORNING

Early morning sun is squeezed into my sleeping room
Through the daringly freaky window that keeps opening
Without prior consent,
Sleeping corpses I think could be woken up
Somehow, a cry, a bang or a kick
Difference hardly it ends in,
I don’t foresee any devils of that sort.

Cotton inside the mattress oppressed for years
It has been with to rescue
No one at the doors.

Perspired all through the chilly night of full moon day
Face I must this unholy gypsy
Standing right before my window in the lonely sky;
That rusty piece of plastic like thing
At first wake sneaks
At second wake shrieks.

These well-wishers so called
Find time enough to recall the high tides
In the accounts at the month ends,
Of course their bosses pay and they gay.

Heaviest are the young mornings
After sleepless nights starting from
Living room to study room and to kitchen
Then ‘gain to study and then to balcony thrice
Then to bed and then to dining and then to bed,
At last into solitary darkness!
Back! Black! Black! Black!

A five odd pairs of seducing moonlight
Through those black holes in my roof,
May have been,
Popping in and dancing on to the snores of Tommy under the cot;
Then like cathedral candle burning to melt down a while later,
Like deceiving venalities of poignant human life,
Vanish the moony beams
By the trumpets of leisurely waking sun
With a slippery yawn
Ingratiating smile
Woke me up!
You unfaithful mongrel of the dishonest skies!

IN THE WOODS OF SHANTINIKETAN: AUTUMN 1999

Slender thy forefingers nimble their faces are dude afar
You in divinity ditched my million wishes at the altar
Thee shall ever rever thy esteemed stature
Foreseen thou mine is the cursed stupidity.

He a dozen tales about sermoned to me
Occasionally how thee were stormy,
Damn the glimpse per se
Stars shall shy away be crushed.

Aparno Dutta
The wrong pseudonym may be mistake it was of mine to Christine you so
How shall I but had the name dreamt of
Light of the darkness
Music of the woods
Strolls of evening
Call of the breaths
Petals half dead showered from the skies above
Boughs kneeling down to ease chastity;
You smiled, smiled ‘gain
Dr. Herman Heck passed by smiling like a child in the cradle
Tenth day was it friends they had been
Wonderful autumn really is
Aquarians crawling hand in hand.
Reds, yellows, blues,
Splashed all over the virgin canvass
That little dimple in the right cheek
Reminds me of you unto the last limp
Ohff!
That falling smile is mesmerizing me doll, don’t smile now please!
Vibrant shades to welcome all here forth
All have been solicited I think, at least it looks so,
We both have together are here uninvited
Somebody is to marry today
At the house behind that Bolpur station
Officially every friend and every relative has been
Informed and cordially solicited, ‘gain it seems so Sohan said,
Some come for music
Some for food
Some for a match
Some for fun
Some for a show
Some for especially those rasgullas,
Some for something unknown to none.
After the death of the first year
The neighbours, if parents are alive they may too
Come for a piece of unevenly cut cake to eat
On the occasion of maiden birthday celebrations,
If you call and if they feel so to come its all vice-versa.

Relationships are of need, or it may not be exactly
Feeling for is just a perspired traveler misguided
Cruising lethargically over the calms waters
Of evening breeze went we to the chaywalla for tea two cupsfull.
You are if you think you are
You aren’t if you think you aren’t
So, we thought we were
So we were what we wished to be of a good company to the solitude autumn!

comments by RATCHISON


Ron Atchison
Inspiration Peak

Joined: Nov. 2001
Posts: 120
Location: San Francisco
Now Reading: The People's History of the World - by Howard Zinn

Posted: April 11, 2007, 1:48 am

Hello Sanjeev!!!

Once again it's very interesting to see the world through your eyes...

I especially like the way your words tease each other and dance off the tongue in every direction.... kind of like a T.S. Eliot poem.

How many years have you been writing poetry?