The month of freedom

This is the month of music
And it cannot be heard
When they dance outside
You know what’s playing on
If they have hands in the air
They might well be protesting a ban
Or just a way to say
That it’s not what they want
This is the month of expressing
And it’s tiringly failing
For our faculties are limited
And our faith shakes so well
That it shakes the courage
This is the month of promises
If you can hold on to one
For the sake of being
The man of your words
You must forego your happiness
And that’s where it ends
This is the month of ambition
And one must have one
So we choose one
And it’s one at a time
But time is moody
And we too are
This is the month of wind
Cold, cold. Dramatic and bold
There’s weight in the air
No challenge, no words
And the wolves are spinning
All night, making noise
They have no business
This is the month of freedom


The night sky

The night sky, one hideous fellow
Starry, yet dark
Shimmers because of the dark
Sure there’s more to it
Sure there’s more to it
The night sky, one hideous fellow
Light is one of its needs
Wet of rain on days of no choice
Wet of rain in the nights of too much happiness
Lest one forgets it’s above
One by one it’s tittered
One by one it’s blown
All of a sudden it shone
Greasy, blurry, it flurried us
Gone into oblivion
One day
Sure there’s more to it
When it so opens up
I doubt what’s behind the confidence
The truth in its face
The faith in its bow
The bitterness of its laughter
Sure there’s more to it
Than one can ever see
Sure it stands to see
What it cannot see
And then there is a song
That once in a while
Captures the death of revelation
Reminds it to mourn
Why it laughs so loudly
When a smile will do its job
Sure there’s more to it
The night sky, one hideous fellow
That’s all, that’s all, it says


Photo credit: Sanath Shetty

O’ Zenna, I ask

Keep moving or quit
O’ Zenna
Whether or not
As I let ti’ now
Two ways, one path
I ask
I cry
O’ Zenna
You answer
Any. But go.

One chosen
The one
The best
The perfect
O’ Zenna
I cry
No The Best
No The perfect
As long as life
– O’ Zenna

Who’s controlling this dance?

There was no stream
There was no dust
There was no light
No yellow, no red
There was no dark
There was no singer
There was no burble
No heat, no cold
There was an empty ground
Not barren, not green
Not even painted so
Not even carpeted so
There was someone dancing
To beats no one commanded
To tunes nobody heard
A shadow that needed no dark
No light
Not even a sync of two
Was out even shadow
Man or woman, who knows
The dance was a maddening affair
The dance confined to the ground
And then crossing horizons
Expanded, moved, and inflated
At first we thought it was great
Then we saw some illnesses
Then came fragrances of jasmine
Then the putrefying evil
But there was a dance
That seemingly nobody controlled
But there must have been somebody, right?
Or something that drove it so
So well, so well, so well
Who could’ve been without claiming
Must’ve been your lord
What could’ve been so capricious
Must’ve been bewildered emotions
Who am I to judge
How do I even guess
There’s not so much of a moment
To put the dance to rest