REBEL...

As he stands on the edge of a cliff
his life takes a brief parade.
It leaves door ajar that were sealed.
The trapped air gushes out,
damp air that brings fresh yesteryear!
Tears trickle down his cheeks
to join the fall below.
Damp eyes trail around to meet hope,
that says,'life'll never be the same'.
The rebel hangs like an old coat,
the never change attitude still remains,
but it needs some sunshine,
some amount of fresh air, and,
maybe a soft touch of caress.
Battered by rains of criticism,
tattered by innumerable cries of 'don't'
snarled by the system,
This rebel lies disheveled,
discarded like a leper!
An iconoclast with a faith of steel,
his head held high takes the plunge.
Silence!
He emerges, crawling on the shore...
With a wicked grin on his face,
Lets the white sand flow,
from his ever clutching fingers.

Tree

Thy beauty lies above any beautiful damsel.
'Tis not healthy to make comparisons
But I do to bring forth my coiled ideas,
To sing thy praise in best harmony possible.
You are beautiful when you're springing with life.
Each fresh twig and bud bring forth more life.
Each new leaf oozes beauty that makes each sight breathless.
When birds chirp on your bows,
Peck on your barks,
Mate on your branches,
Establish their rightful territory
with their pleasant cries of the wild.
I shudder with pleasure.
When you grow heavy with fruits,
It's feast time for all.
Ants, bats, birds, bees, butterflies, leggy pillar
and the gnawing families!
You provide shelter for them
And build a paradise of their own.
When birds nestle on your branches
And their lil' ones chirp with all their might,
It delights my ears with the strangest thrills
Making my heart thump faster.
When your leaves fall
and your branches are empty
You are still beautiful.
A damsel loses her beauty
The moment she scorns.
Old age would doom her!
But you are immortally beautiful.
You retain your beauty even when you fall.
A true artist would paint the sight
With tears in his eyes.

Sarah...

Her mind dances in some sort of madness
I find it difficult to comprehend.
Her beautiful large eyes oscillates
radiating innocence in its purest form.
She giggles and mumbles words,
makes me uncomfortably ill.
I pray sincerely and wish God to
free her from this disease. I pity!
She moves about like some alien,
in a care free manner,
swinging her arms, saliva spilling
from the corner of her beautiful lips.
I rush toward her with a towel
And she rebels deafeningly.
I retreat and she is again lost in
her world. The world of innocence!
I wonder whether she is more
happy than anyone.
Is this what they call,
"Ignorance is Bliss."
Or am I actually making a fool
of myself by pitying unnecessarily?
Is this some sort of a paradox?
Did God wish to preserve her in
pure innocence?
She pulls my hand and drags me to
show a bright coloured butterfly
on the window sill. I smile.

Hey Young rag picker...

Where is your gun boy ?
You ought to be playing boy.
Wipe those tears boy ,
It looks bad on your dirty face.
Picture perfect for an artist
but shameful sight for a man.

So have you decided to live
like this forever ?
Its all on your mind boy.
If you think you can ,
you will.
If you think you cant ,
you wont.

Don't get fucked up in
this bloody world.
You gotta fuck em' hard
yes bloody hard.

You think God will come
to pick you up ?
You idiot he has
pushed you down.
Now its your turn
to get up...
Don't wait...
Its his way to show
the tough world around.
If you can conquer it ,
You win !
If you cant ,
You loose !
So choice is yours old boy

for You are a Man !

Waves that throw...

Life's waves throw you somewhere.
As you gather yourself , you realize
its a beautiful shore !
Sea - shells , starfish and the roaring
waves brings about a thrill.
You gallop like a pony.
Come Night , fear of the darkness
covers you like a blanket.
You take shelter half hearted,
eagerly waiting for sunrise.
Come Sunrise and you run toward
the ever chanting shore.
Only to be washed away
by the waves to some distant land.
Oh ! Life , take me where you
want to. For we both cannot stand still

even if we want to !

FOG...

Down in the valley the army advances
like a thick blanket covering but all.
The army thickens and widens
as it merges with its scattered allies.
Soon the foothills are covered.
I am the lone watchman of this invasion.
Another half an hour, the village would
be covered.
I turn towards the fire and giggling red faces.
My thoughts twirl upwards along with the smoke.
The unseen future always excites me.
The crackling wood pieces draw my attention,
they lay like some sacred embers,
glowing brightly with each passing wind.
The white army touches the village
engulfing those little children playing.
I see them no more...only their shouts !
My heart beats faster as i feel like
floating on the white army.
Or at least , paint a moving picture.
There's a lightening , followed by a
roaring thunder. There is silence !
The roof starts mumbling and so does
the leaves and pots and pans.
We hurry inside. Now there's a grumble
of some sort. Another thunder crackles.
Now its all song and dance of the rain.
I run towards the window to see
the white army falling.
They look at me with defeated glance.
Their invaded regions now lay clear of
sight. I look up and hum a song.
It gets darker and darker and darker
Don't know how night slipped in ?
Must admire its stealthiness.
I wake up in the morning,
And crawl on my bed to look outta window
And behold ! The white army had reached my

doorsteps !