Blisters on the Palate

roof of my mouth  
there is blood up there 
bloody blisters all around, all over 
blisters on the palate  
bloody blisters on the roof of my mouth

can't swallow, can't eat 
can't help it, can't drink 
bloody blisters 
blisters on the roof of my mouth  

can't reveal'em 
can't see them either 
they are like spies 
they are like spikes 
they are like a ghost of a loved one haunting you in malice 
they are blisters on the palate 
they are on the roof of me mouth 
bloody blisters on the palate  

bloody bastards 
illegitimate, illegal, illicit sons of bad karma 
can't love them, can't kill them 
just can wait for them to pass away 
like a whore wait for a callous customer to depart 
can't claim them either 
don't count as war scars you see 
No honor, No shame 

bloody blisters
blisters on the palate of my mouth

Corollary

According to Projective Geometry any pair of lines always intersects at some point, but parallel lines do not intersect in the real plane. In other words, two parallel lines meet at infinity.

Probably or in Probability one day our Good Samaritan friend Math got bored from its ever supportive pal LOGIC, and decided to flirt with PHILOSOPHY a little. Some nerve aye?

Some wise Wo/man once said or not but I am paraphrasing here anyways "two roads always meet somewhere". Well I don’t travel much so I daren’t annotate on that but I’m almost sure 'two sides of a road never meet'.

Imagine! All their life (non-life) they remain abreast of each other but never actually felt, not even a lone touch of one-another. Just moving at a hand’s distance from each other and we move along them. What stories they must have shared in their eternity of acquaintance? One side that is completely oblivious of the other. They only talk at nights when there are no vehicles to document their detachment like the families of two brothers living in different cities asking about the well being only once a month or like young lovers full of intimate clandestinity. Their different worlds had the sorrows of their own. Everyday they are strangers or at least they act like that till there’s the visibility of dusk. Alas! They can’t even say “let’s meet at some cheesy café.

What power is holding them apart? What force in this universe that is so callous that it’s not letting these fervent friends to infuse? Poor bastards can’t even hear the poems that some eminent poet had written on their agony that propelled his career.

I guess Maths knows and empathizes with this pain of theirs. It evidently had changed the rational mood of Mathematics and hence it provide them with Hope that if they kept going, these so called Mates then they might meet at Infinity.

Now the derived question is “Does Maths really gave them Hope Or Is it one of the immaculate illusions of this great player?”

To Love

The grand love that thee call,

That thy eyes witness from the grand spectacle,

Reflected from the grander, bright wall of fabric.

Thy brilliant beauty beguiles me,

Only if it could compel my soul to aspire.

I who is dreadful of my action,

For they are driven by dint of mere attraction.

Nor in my life have I wanted anything

more than the passion it induces but

wrongful of me if I acquaint Love with Passion.

So this is my urge to love,

That let thy be enchanting and godly,

Let not again confuse me because

Such a sacred thing is love

That can’t be domain nor defined

Let it be impartial and free from exclusive passion.

Let thou, me and us evolve into it, to love.

Where the ships come to die

As the workers climb to feel

A whole mountain of steel

one worker watches as other dismantles

a navy ship in a ship breaking yard

This is a place where the ships come to die

ho o fear no more oh brother 
I am here to pry, to cry

The cranes, the trolleys, the welding jet and the wrecking balls

lurking to devour its prey like a law passed by the parliament

Inch by inch and foot by foot it melts

like the skin of a self-incinerating Tibetan monk

This is a place where the ships come to die

ho o fear no more oh brother 
I am here to pry, to cry

The ships abrade away slowly and slowly

As the migratory birds realizes their perching place shrinking

It’s a way of living for the thousands

Hazardous but then their only call or they fall

This is a place where the ships come to die

ho o fear no more oh brother 
I am here to pry, to cry

The fumes from the metal cutter giving him cancer

The radioactive waste, the polluted environment

the toxic derbies, the dying planet and the molesting corporations

He care any less for them or the breathing masks

He just wants some money to subsist

Like a slave who only want to live another day

Freedom is a pipe dream, only for the rich

Either you work or you die in a famine

This is a place where the ships come to die

ho o fear no more oh brother 
I am here to pry, to cry

The cremation continues in the night

When the flames and the sparks are flying

in the sky like a swarm of fireflies executing a ritual

the queue of lights illuminating on a distant port

is the only hope for the industrious souls

This is a place where the ships come to die

ho o fear no more oh brother 
I am here to pry, to cry

On a turbulent dawn, the work don’t halt

When the wind and waves are teeming in

A storm is coming in, mumbling, grumbling,

The half razed ship that looks like wreckage

But the people are bigger threat than the cyclone

Like an old war veteran waiting for

a bullet than dying of Alzheimer’s, the pain, the agony

hoooo howaaa This is a place where the ships come to die

ho o fear no more oh brother 
I am here to pry, to cry

Rhyming

The Guard is sleeping.
The bird is yearning.
The Bard is subsisting.
The F-word is overused.
The thirds are juiced.
The slate board is void.

The ombudsman is procrastinating. 
The prophet is plagiarising. 
The liberator is charging. 
The prey is patronising. 
The border is augmenting.
The fear is persisting. 

The family is abasing. 
The farms are crying. 
The food is overwhelming. 
The baby is starving. 
The haven is razing.

The women are floozing coz 
The men are boozing. 
Humans are oozing. 
Demons are undaunted. 
Fragile is the Fortifying. 
Stronghold is lying.

The motherhood is out for betting. 
The childhood is worth dying. 
Perseverance is extincting. 
Religious is what avid logging. 
Only Drugs are calming.

The things we are selling, 
The Gods are not buying. 
The Television is blinding. 
The Expressway is hindering. 
The goodness is rectifying. 

The Omens are slying.
The Karma is bullying.
The signs form the above are forging.
and 
The destiny is beguiling.

Forget what i am yapping. 
Those weren't the preachings 
just some facts i ain't implying. 
Its just a myth, these trees ain't dying.
I am happy as i am,
believe me coz i am flying.
this isn't a song nor a poem
Why the hell am i Rhyming?

THE TWO SIDES

my pants are falling down, i am hungry and pauper. 
gimme bread, gimme love, i am craving for laughter. 
don't gimme beer, don't gimme scotch, 
just the Adam's Ale which precisely would be water.
i am no singularity but a heathen in disaster, 
its the two sides, one is an animal other a writer. 


an altruist out of pain, a monster by the dint of gain, 
a shame, a pity, a war hero, a master, 
a purging monk, or a apathetic gambler, 
i am no singularity but a heathen in disaster, 
its the two sides, one is an animal other a writer. 


I can scale every mountain, 
but hills of responsibility are forbidden by a charter, 
Although i am careless yet i will look after you forever, 
this ain't a promise nor a decree from the kingdom hereafter, 
just my words, no crease on a rock 
but I'll honor them no matter what happens after 
don't gimme beer, don't gimme scotch, 
just the Adam's Ale which precisely would be water. 
i am no singularity but a heathen in disaster, 
its the two sides, one is an animal other a writer. 


i am senile, i am frail, a plaguing Gasper, 
i am rich, i am life, i am the eternal proliferator, 
but still my pants fall down, still a suicidal pauper,
my hunger is un-quenching like an indigent farmer, 
gimme bread, gimme love, i am craving for laughter. 
i am no singularity but a heathen in disaster, 
its the two sides, one is an animal other a writer. 
don't gimme beer, don't gimme scotch, 
just the Adam's Ale which precisely would be water. 
i am no singularity but a heathen in disaster, 
its the two sides, one is an animal other a writer.

Just can't stand hate.

When you can’t figure out what to do with it,
You’re doing fine, you’re doing okay.
When they think you’re dumb and stupid,
But it doesn’t matter and yes you’re okay,
Just can’t stand hate, just can’t stand hate.

When you know that the world is not full of it,
It is just an overcoat, for like a rainy, a stormy day,
You’re doing just fine,
You got a hunch that it won’t stay, not for long,
You’re doing okay mate, you’re doing fine,
You just can’t stand hate, just can’t stand hate.

You Love and you Love a little more,
Then you rest and then... you love some more,
You’re doing brilliant, you’re doing fine,
You found it in the gloomiest of the days,
You find it in hate itself, you’re doing okay,
Just can’t stand hate, you just can’t stand hate.

You just can’t stand hate, you just can’t stand hate.
Yet you don’t hate the hate coz you just can’t stand hate.
You’re okay then, you’re doing just fine Mia Amour
coz you just can’t stay away from LOVE.

मुक्त?

मैं हूँ गुलाम अपनी नियति का,
मैं हूँ मुक्त? मैं हूँ मुक्त?
तू है गुलाम अपनी सामाजिकता की,
तू है मुक्त? तू है मुक्त?

तू और मैं खड़े हैं जिस धरातल पे, 

वो द्रव्य नहीं है कठोर न ही है वो ठोस
गिरते ही चले जायेंगे यदि उड़े नहीं तो,
उड़ान भरनी सीखी है क्या तूने कभी?
हम हैं गुलाम गुरुत्व के,
हम हैं मुक्त? हम हैं मुक्त?
मैं हूँ गुलाम अपनी नियति का,
मैं हूँ मुक्त? मैं हूँ मुक्त?
तू है गुलाम अपनी सामाजिकता की,
तू है मुक्त? तू है मुक्त?


है जो ये समाज धोका है या है ये छलावा?
इसकी ज़ंजीरें दिखती नहीं फिर भी तू हिल सकती नहीं,
प्राण घोट देंगी यदि तोड़ी नहीं गयी, शक्ति है क्या तुझमें...है क्या?
तू है गुलाम अपनी अबलता की,
तू है मुक्त? तू है मुक्त?
मैं हूँ गुलाम अपनी नियति का,
मैं हूँ मुक्त? मैं हूँ मुक्त?
तू है गुलाम अपनी सामाजिकता की,
तू है मुक्त? तू है मुक्त?


है जो ये कर्मठता तेरी, कर्म है ये या व्यर्थ है कोई?
इसकी दीवारें इतनी भव्य हैं की इससे परे की सुन्दरता भेद नहीं पाती तुझे,
कल्यंत्रिका हो जाएगी अगर फांद नहीं सकी इसे,
विश्वास भरी कूद लगानी आती है क्या तुझे?
तू है गुलाम अपने घनों की,
हम हैं गुलाम अपनी आजीविका के,
तू है मुक्त? हम हैं मुक्त?
मैं हूँ गुलाम अपनी नियति का,
मैं हूँ मुक्त? मैं हूँ मुक्त?
तू है गुलाम अपनी सामाजिकता की,
तू है मुक्त? तू है मुक्त?


है जो ये अँधेरा द्वार के उस पार,
अनदेखा है ये या जाना पहचाना?
इसकी चकाचौंध है इतनी की रौशनी हमें छू नहीं सकती,
मूक, अंध और बहरे हो जायेंगे अगर पार नहीं किया इसे तो,
साहस है तुझमें इतना...है तुझमें दम?
तू है गुलाम अपने भय का,
है तू मुक्त? है तू मुक्त?
हम हैं गुलाम अपनी संकीर्णता के,
हम हैं मुक्त? हम हैं मुक्त?
वो हैं गुलाम अपनी रीतियों के,
वो हैं मुक्त? वो हैं मुक्त?
सब हैं गुलाम हर इसके-हर उसके,
मैं हूँ गुलाम अपनी नियति का,
मैं हूँ मुक्त? मैं हूँ मुक्त?
तू है गुलाम अपनी सामाजिकता की,
तू है मुक्त? तू है मुक्त?
तू है मुक्त? तू है मुक्त?
तू है मुक्त? तू है मुक्त?
तू है मुक्त? तू है मुक्त?