A Parting Gift

The words are boiling over
Flowing out like molten lava
On the great canyon
That never was.

Two years.
You know what that means?

Two years of friendship wasted
Two years of experiences tasted
Together
Probably meant nothing to you.

You disgust me
(If it matters anymore.)

I watch the canyon crumble
Under the weight of my realisation
And wonder if such crassness
Will contaminate my poetry.

Well, it has.
An unstructured swollen mass:
Effluence of wated emothions.

Poetry gone bad.
Its my parting gift to you.

Lawyer, Teacher, Shakespeare

Lawyer, Teacher, Shakespeare
Drenched in 'greatness'
Squandering pauses
Bellowing verses
Whimsical lameness
Idiosyncracies of eccentric brilliance.

Walking encyclopedia,
Spouting cases, citations, trivia;
Silly tantrums galore
Never once mellow.
We can but stare and laugh
To be told off, (yes he can be tough).
The class's his stage
But many a dramatis personae emerge
(To mime and mimic his glare, his rage)
When he leaves after the allotted hour.

Pure entertainment,
But he seems to forget.
This is a classroom
Not a courtroom
Enaction.

There's lawyer and there's teacher
But never did both blend
To give Shakespeare
As did he.

Magician

A million things
Do I conjure
With wandless wit
And hatless trick.
Magician of words
I cast my spell
Into poetry and prose.
Alas! the magic is stilted
With writer's bane
Mystic tastes and myraid expenses
Obscure the magic.

Writer's Soliloquy

There's so much to say
I struggle with it;
It's gotta be right
It's gotta be me.
But when its done
I'm liberated.
That too dies shortly;
And then what?
Just the pain of being
An unread writer lingers.

Crowds

Crowds crowd you,
At every end they maul you,
With baring teeth and greet you.
One breath of lonesome air
Is all I ask of you.

The Nagging Ache

The nagging ache
Recurs-
Chores attended to,
Gossip all around,
I do as they do.
Oh for Godssake
Its back.

Trappings of the day
Some gotten,
Others on the way…
Yet something’s forgotten
And its nagging me
Again.

It eludes me
The musical note
As discordant beats
Teach us by rote.
Ok now I’ve stopped to think:
What’s my thing?

The ache persists.
It taunts.
Clears the mists
That haunts
The happy peoples
With no nagging aches.

A Speck in Time

A singl speck
In the universe of time...
I exist in that minute
To tell my story,
To live my life,
To leave my mark.

A million poets before me,
Have come and gone.
They left:
Some in dejection,
Some with glory.
They too were but a speck
And me, another speck
Beyond which, we part ways...
Me and my words.

Why would anyone care
To remember?
Why would a revolving globe
Pause for a mere speck?

Some Reflections on Life

Some Reflections on Life

Children, love, beauty
Jargon for happiness...

I see your impish innocence
And can't trouble to pause
Your questions are tactless.
I have placs to go.

And ye mustard flowers and red gulmohors
Nature's beauty at its best
But we need to deal with many a beast
Of a mightier law.

Love, frailest passion
Ensconed in myth and delusion
Jilters abound,
Pain - the ultimate regulation.

What are we, cash counting hounds?
(Hard language is not to condemn or berate-
-That's not my job-
But state.)

We slave our asses
Benumbed by the glitter of acceptance
Yet we remain minions
Of destiny where neither jargon shall hold.