Songs of Barbarism

A.S.M. ShamimMiah

Euro-Khaleeji Oman, 2015

[1]

By the same poet:

Boishakhi Litany eBook: www.lulu.com, 2005

Copyright 2015 Euro-Khaleeji Research and Publishing House, Oman

All rights reserved. This publication may not be reproduced for commercial purposes without the express written permission of the publisher except for brief quotations in book reviews, scholarly journals, or educational textbooks. However, since Euro-Khaleeji Research and Publishing House is committed to creating learning societies with educational opportunities for all populations (UNESCO), it grants the author permission to allow the partial or total reproduction of his work.

First Printing: 2015

ISBN 978-1-329-10530-0

Cover picture from www.freeimages.co.uk

Euro-Khaleeji Research and Publishing House Sultanate of Oman www.euro-khaleeji.org

[2]

Dedication

Once, I read in This Boys Life, a book written by Tobias Wolff, that his first stepfather used to say that what [he] didnt know

would fill a book. Well, I believe his father, too.

I dedicate this book to my father Md. Abdul LatifMiah, whose impressive career in diplomacy, despite coming from a remote village, inspired me to believe that life can provide you with experiences that can bring out a poet in you. This book is also for Sarmin Sultana, my darling wife, who helped me to put up with worries, and Abu Aaraf Md. JubairMiah, my beloved son, who always brings smiles to my face. As well, Mrs. Akhtara Begum, my mother, who knows that I have grown up to be a man, a husband, and a father, yet treats me as though I was a toddler.

Nevertheless, I must also thank the companies that kept producing the caffeinated coffee and sugar that have been my companions through many long nights of writing.

[3]

Acknowledgment

My eternal gratitude goes out to Dr. Milton George at University of Buraimi for inspiring me to finalize this compilation. Throughout the last year, he encouraged, appreciated, and supported my work.

[4]

Prologue

This omnibus has brought me much delight. The prosaic depiction of cross cultural experiences, international socio-political interdependence, the socio-religious stereotyped behaviors of people of one nation towards the other, and the greed-driven nationalism that fuels passion for hegemonic supremacy, as well as womanizing dilatoriness in poetry inspired by shayeri or gazal genres of Urdu poetry: they have all propelled me back to the fond memories of when I penned these poems, and the books where they were found.

Each of these poems is like a territorial mass encompassing cognitive, precognitive and conscientious endeavors that I am introducing to a new audience. But, there is, perhaps, a better excuse for giving Songs of Barbarism to the public than can be offered for many of the anthologies that have recently been issued. The public, generally speaking, does not know that there are Bangladeshi poets who write in English to redress this lack of information is, alone, a work worthy of my effort.

Until now the work of our most talented poets has been largely unavailable. Early volumes were slim and published in very limited editions, such as The Sounds of Silence(2001); Forward Poetry(2011); and The Externalist: A Journal of Perspective(2013).

This anthology is about commemoration, tribute andacknowledgement of our spiritual origins, biological interconnectedness, and religious diversity. It celebrates the wonder of life, of being, and of passing awayas machinated phenomena, rather than innate events.

However, I believe that through this edition of my work in poetry, I will have an opportunity to depict the loss of freedomin Bangladesh, the grandeur of God that is most misunderstood, the futility of life, and the struggle in love. Those who have been consistently publishing my works have established a remarkable place in my life as their unparalleled efforts keep giving a voice to my poetic endeavors across the globe. But, so far, it has only

[5]

afforded me a position in the poetic society of Bangladesh, where I truly belong. It is a journey of prosaic intellectuality which will end only when I reach my preemptive destiny. Each versification of thoughts has something of its own to bestow to us. Only by recognizing and realizing it, may we be able to topple the barriers in cross-communication. Poems that were already published and talked about have also been assembled in this edition. I hope and pray that my thoughts and beliefs will touch those who read my poems.

[6]

Contents

Dedication .................................................................................................... 2

Acknowledgment.......................................................................................... 3

Prologue ....................................................................................................... 4

The Child of Fortune's Foul ......................................................................... 11

In Dyes of Magnolia .................................................................................... 12

The Flavor of Humanity Only ...................................................................... 13

Driven off Slums ......................................................................................... 14

The Forgotten Carcass ................................................................................ 15

A Rose was Raped ...................................................................................... 16

Candle in the Wind ..................................................................................... 17

Dipped in the Funnel of Life ........................................................................ 18

Humans and Envy ....................................................................................... 19

Mowing Continues...................................................................................... 20

One Little Puff ............................................................................................ 21

The Rocky Isle ............................................................................................. 22

Scaffold of Life ............................................................................................ 23

Shame ........................................................................................................ 24

Sing O Robin .............................................................................................. 25

Strong in the Will ........................................................................................ 26

Take a Sick Parade ...................................................................................... 27

[7]

The Beauty .................................................................................................. 28

The Cloudy Bosom ...................................................................................... 29

The Creed of Humanity ............................................................................... 30

The Crow .................................................................................................... 32

The Destitute Lots ....................................................................................... 34

The Ice-age ................................................................................................. 37

The Voyage ................................................................................................. 38

A Beautiful Plague ...................................................................................... 39

One Stony Ring ........................................................................................... 41

The Angel of Woodland .............................................................................. 42

The Gigolo................................................................................................... 43

The Maelstrom ........................................................................................... 44

A Lovely Affair of Love ................................................................................ 45

The Honey Moon ........................................................................................ 46

The Shadow ................................................................................................ 47

Your Memories ........................................................................................... 48

The Awakening ........................................................................................... 50

The New Awakening ................................................................................... 51

The Post Awakening ................................................................................... 52

The Awakeners Awakening ........................................................................ 53

The Fallen Awakening ................................................................................. 54

The Revised Awakening .............................................................................. 55

[8]

The Flaunted Awakening ............................................................................ 56

The Cursive Awakening............................................................................... 57

The Passover Sacrifice ................................................................................ 59

Simbhat Bat at Home.................................................................................. 60

The Atharvaveda Of Marriage .................................................................... 61

The Duty of Yibbum .................................................................................... 62

The Faith..................................................................................................... 64

The God ...................................................................................................... 65

The Sea of Faith .......................................................................................... 66

The Resolution of the Fire Fly ..................................................................... 67

Before Cremation ....................................................................................... 68

By Their Rude Guns .................................................................................... 70

PEACE: The Metaphor for US Patriotism ..................................................... 71

Boys of My Home ....................................................................................... 72

The Campaign ............................................................................................. 73

Peace at Gun Point ..................................................................................... 75

Farmer of My Rightful Estate ...................................................................... 76

The Concoction ........................................................................................... 78

The Iron Birds ............................................................................................. 79

The Song of Barbarism ................................................................................ 80

To Topple they Came .................................................................................. 81

Tread Slowly ............................................................................................... 83

[9]

Voice no Guns ............................................................................................. 84

Brandishing ................................................................................................. 85

Bangladesh: My fate and flaws ................................................................... 87

City of Dead ................................................................................................ 89

Bangla is Bleeding Again ............................................................................. 90

Boishakhi Litany .......................................................................................... 91

Hey Boishakh: To Celebrate or not to Celebrate ......................................... 92

Lines Written on Dhaka City ........................................................................ 93

A Fallen Girl ................................................................................................ 95

Loves Tavern .............................................................................................. 96

River Shunned Her Body ............................................................................. 97

The Flower Maid ......................................................................................... 98

The Wedding Night ..................................................................................... 99

[10]

Meditative

[11]

The Child of Fortune's Foul

I'm a child of fortune's foul, Born of one's momentous pleasure, and left to fetch;

What not, for life, so unmeant to me, Yet, for breath, for belly, for body, which never match.

They say, I beleaguer nature's supreme right

Never owned by humble parents, rising in my labor; I whisk thicket of groves about the place, they say,

I do perhaps, to catch a sight, receive a care or favor.

What's true - no one knows, down here, All ranks are same by color, race or faith of unknown; Yet, for survival, for fitness, for supremacy, perhaps;

Morals of yesterday like heavy grass over grave are mown.

Just as green rejuvenating to life from roots; My instincts never shy-off from shooting high to reach;

Where born off a known background others go; By pedigree, by gentry or fortune's hitch.

November 15, 2007

[12]

In Dyes of Magnolia

In dyes of magnolia the season came

A sight so lovely feels like a sip of morning tea Full of warmth in such blush, I felt to wear

Romantic feel for my beloved long condoned.

Like the spring surrendered in selfless act Or the whole of dreamscape reduced to sorrow; I frenzied a fuzzy glimpse of her forgotten face

Too long Ive prized the keep in the abysmal heart.

This dye of magnolia is reminiscent of my leave Riveted in time, quite numb, bemoaning transience. This seclusion amidst the crowd feels horrendous Love-struck, thus, I bleed in the dead of the night.

Passing gradually down the alley of gloom

In drips across the earth in pursuit of holiness If baptized by ignorance I were to be blessed Ill rush to dye the earth in red with my blood.

For, her promiscuity hides her infidelity

All season round she paints me in hue of love So if by chance she fails to keep her for me Should I mutter in disgust at such a failure?

November 22, 2005

[13]

The Flavor of Humanity Only

Rid me off this skin,

I shan't wear it anymore; There's more of flavor than humanity;

Little shame no more.

A sweat of hope demises With arms in hand as he goes

About the business of war - must I say? Lots of cash deeply flows.

For love, for peace, for harmony His artillery spits death so fine Not a missed target in the field

Such is his duty six to nine.

Senile old fool looks down upon And bare of support in hideous cot;

Each living thing avoids confrontation And evading eyes prize their loot.

Set aside as civil witness

Do I deserve the skin on me? That one thing common with them

Save the guts to fight to free.

Rid me off this skin therefore I shan't be called a man again; To be hushed spectator only While more bodies are slain.

November 18, 2008

[14]

Driven off Slums

Amidst high rises of Dhaka There breathes unwieldy slum

Surrounding which buildings grow Like my enfolding palm.

So, safe, cared and innocuous

Though, all dwellers seem to be Yet, fuelling their heart a wrath Mounts to call a flood from sea.

Threat of weather, beside a tear

Constantly run through conscience of them Nothing save the delight of living Keeps the spirit abound by same.

I see smoke from tents climb

High-up in the reachless of heaven Penetrating deep thro the clouds

Piercing layers seven.

Yes! Like the fragrance superb They touch the sky, meaning no harm

Like the tender grove springing Thro the vaulting palm.

Let there be smoke coming out

Those slums remind me of village dear My grannys kitchen full of wood My incense bearing food on fryer.

Drive them off no more,

With each slum, gone will my culture be My tradition so colorful

My mothers smeared glee.

July 12, 2004

[15]

The Forgotten Carcass

She sleeps, yet stages a performance In her death, she finds no credit, but eyes

Devouring in each glimpse, like crows They scan her topless, in sick surprise.

As if a carcass, of forgotten bitch

Lying beside garbage, she too sleeps; While like many, I pass-by, with disgust

Never truly knowing what keeps.

There a swarm of people gathered Only to have a glance, and pity;

Her bony limbs, though in decay; Still tempts their hypocrite morality.

Perhaps, Im too human to deny, Deep inside, I too have the same

A fear of losing humanity, how lame, Surely, I doubt, I dare to keep the name.

September 18, 2005

[16]

A Rose was Raped

A beautiful rose blossomed

Over the meadow, seldom walked upon By any; and looked straight eye to eye With the veiled eyes of the horizon

Which seemed to hide them from her I wondered why? But then a sight so sick Centered my attention, as I saw a butterfly

Dangling in the air was courting in spasmodic Manner and leaves her pregnant of its child

While she remains passive waiting to wither away But to her ill luck another butterfly comes

And leaves her a harlot she was not till today. A rape so true, so open, so widely done

From the blossoming of a rose under the naked sun.

[17]

Candle in the Wind

Like the candle in the wind I burn against the formidable

Struggling so much its suffocation I learn to cherish the candle.

So powerful is the Force

So tiring is its push and pull Hardly stabilizing the grip

I light the gloomy dull.

Piercing thro thick murky-space I put up a glow in the vacuum

So fatal is the cut I cut That all enlightened rush to plume.

Like the candle in the wind I burn all night in my plight No heart consoles my guilt

I solely bear the blaming right.

And slowly melting in my flesh Sip by sip I penetrate the soil From where no flame returns But turnips unwillingly boil.

June 15, 2003

[18]

Dipped in the Funnel of Life

Dipped in the funnel of life Bordered by the glassy walls

Slipping with greasy times passage I near the plastered malls.

Breath by breath tendency jeopardized And told by the knowledge of birth

Conscience disapproved to lurk I ascend the stairs of mortal earth.

Slowly tipping over like a cup

Rolling down the table wide in droplets Ones emotional self gradually slips

Temper loses and hope frets. Oneness of the soul and body lies

Bare and naked to us as phony When betrayed by affinity breath withers

Those reliable puffs of living of me.

December 9, 2003

[19]

Humans and Envy

If love was contagious like disease Would it have relented their envy?

Filling their hearts with priceless love Would it have reared Humanity?

That, which is lacking from mans pursuit

As pelf takes on their passion To acquire which they accept to pay

What is known to you and me as animation?

Love they claim to their fellows And, behind their back conspire as well

What truly binds such a species together? If it not be for a bosom to swell-

While telling, so much is common;

Yet, diversed by each traits By mortal laws for mortal desires

Not before death does anyone frights.

So much for brotherhood, and globalization In primitivism as this where life costs us more Weighed against trivial things, often money,

I would love to die thrice before.

24-25 December, 2003

[20]

Mowing Continues

Mowing thro the grassy field I came across a rough stone

Thats when I decided not to yield, And since then a success known.

Though, grasses keep growing

Stones rolling back in place I know my job was of Mowing

Not to question the Unknown Face.

From beyond the screen the Hand rules This languid mill kicks and flourishes,

All that I know are my jewels, To spend before the world perishes.

My enthralling span may soon be over, But grasses will then still be growing,

Upon my decaying bosom over and over, With a new mower mowing.

January 18, 2002

[21]

One Little Puff

Soundly sleeping in the bed Lay the Deads of our kind

Calmly therefore walk past them The sleep is real for your mind.

Yesterday, they were alive

Playing with me all around; Catching and letting go the fly, They finally met the profound.

A dreaded joy is now their host

Which giving so much the rest denies Beneath the mud flesh decays

Mere bone and skull are all that remains.

What is life? If not an illusion Like the madmans babbling unnecessary

A traverse u-turn to the source A misers alms so meager.

One little puff, then it goes -

Dangling in the air unseen, while bellows Rocketing the sky touches no limit

Save serving to the purpose.

This tapestry called life Is the variegated joy which befell upon me; So long after the bang, that horrible bang!

Nearing its time to once more be.

When silently all shall lie down And slowly merge into the muddy-soil Never to rise perhaps, this will be end To all the coiling in pursuit of a boil.

July 20, 2003

[22]

The Rocky Isle

Sitting on the rocky isle

Here, I stand before the roaring sea That tossing and flinging so much knows

The truth of life that I wish to see.

Here lay the barren shore Where emptiness opens its distant door

Measuring the void in exile One after another waves score.

Calmly watching this frictional game

Now I crumble; now I heal; Then, tear away in defeat within myself;

Hard to explain this strange zeal.

As I make the portrait, it hits; Often and again bound by fate

Against this solid bequeathing coast In countless pieces, thus you fret.

Wondering like the foamy bubbles

Spidering their way towards milky dome I, too, hassle between the Rubbles In search of thee, my dear home.

Wither will the waves take me

Wither will the roars end I shall dive into the sea and become

An ever silent friend.

10 June 2003

[23]

Scaffold of Life

Soon or later down the scaffold

All activity will stoop to go Those streets of fated footprints

With their spade and saw.

The darkling clutches of wild Sipping thro the wedlock of flesh and bone;

Drains off the greasy red That so forth had lives sown.

But, a toys worth did man serve

Unto his Majesty who ploughed the clay Throughout the genre until now In a game that immortals play.

February 19, 2004

[24]

Shame

How soon you realize? What shame is? When nakedly your daughter walks-by

And gazers trap a view in salacious fancy Hastily sipping poison you yearn to die.

How soon you realize? What shame is? When drunk in the night your son rapes

And limb of the law trails to punish Hidden in the night you burn the tapes.

How soon you realize? What shame is?

When lost to enemy your wife stages bed And folks mutter words of disgust so loud Curled in sentiments you dig with spade.

How soon you realize? What shame is?

When given to fate all blackens like blue sky And tendency of revival dims to zero

Shame-struck, and yielded, you plan to die.

How soon you realize? What shame is? When you err to recognize the err, believe,

That shame befell you, correct the err; And learn to draft a reason to live.

October 30, 2005

[25]

Sing O Robin

O Robin sing your song to me In voice so hurt ever could be

Sing the song that no one wrongs Save the solitary self of me.

Sing in mirthful joy of yours Care not how much it pours

That burning liquor of my eyes Sing without stopping all your lures.

Your lyrics are strange, yet I know Whom you sing to and love avow

I, being a non singer, need you Sing, therefore, over my ladys mow.

Sing that song that you first sang

Sing O Robin till she sang The lyrics of my love and came

Between my arms to fang.

The jocunditys venom, let her pour Im quite happy just sing once more

Until she gave her heart away Until my eyes gleamed no more.

Sing O Robin sing your song That time-montage so strong Take me back in to my past

Where, I truly and solely belong.

April 20, 2003

[26]

Strong in the Will

Strong in the will, I yet seek

That momentous glint on your face Rising from depth which wears-away

My loving passion for the Grace.

On the course, all I know We both are set to meet, alas!

Closely walking like the railway From our sides, we pass.

Gazing beside, we do see

Both of us walking on split ways Now we learn a chance to meet

Now all hope dismays.

Strong with the will, yet we are For hundred years from now to be

Arms in arms held between - The widening tempestuous sea.

Started (May 05, 2005) ended (May 6, 2005)

[27]

Take a Sick Parade

Take a sick parade

Thro' the aisles of hospital beds, The laughter you laugh,

Will instantly bear a mourner's shades.

Here cries of grief and joy, Both side by side dwell, Some with grief return,

And some with joy swell.

'Tis a haunted house A place for angels too.

Here, some meet their Source Whereof, some are sent hereto.

Not the horror, face the facts

'Tis a house whither life come and go, While breaths of their folks linger at the edge,

Now a birth, now a death, hard to tell what overgo.

They call it a curative abode, But, I name it a Gambler's hut,

Whither lives with money are weighed, Who wins, who loses, the knowledge without.

[28]

The Beauty

Beauty has the fastest legs

A speedy flow to flood thro Past the years limiting tags

To score the highest in one go.

Its vain to trust the Beauty So dubious is its mood

Whence, it strikes past twenty It wakes the whole neighborhood.

Street to street, it becomes a talk

When in full shining gloss; Tearing the fame so horrible a shock

When it streams like the floss.

Count no more, this I say Beauty is not a joy forever

What was deceived in dismay Is the ugly renews forever.

14th -20th June, 2003

[29]

The Cloudy Bosom

Cloudy bosom barren of rains So little strays so little remains This passing age is quick sand

Where love bellows, and life stains.

Rosy cheek of her grief-laden face Where pale and white soon replace

The hope of joy when she coyly turns Beneath her burns, love embraces.

The man of her life comes and goes Never so cruelly did any such foes Dead and alive and dead as she felt

Her throbbing heart pleasure ensures.

This is called life, such hide and seek Where now a hope and now a leak

Shuddered us all, yet we thrived But, endeavors were safer to reek.

April 2, 2003

[30]

The Creed of Humanity

My creed is humanity by birth, I was a man first, then a race

And, follower of a secondary faith Which I follow upon my findings about His Grace.

So, when I say I love you, I mean it as I have versed

Not for following my personal creed But, for your being a human first.

You and I are similar

And, begotten of the same source Why then separate creed, we adhere

And in alluring manner them enforce.

You are colored and Im not Is that an excuse to suffice reason why

I should hate you and love abhor And, In finding a clash of belief your life deny?

Let me teach you then my dear

We have the same blood running thro our veins We all cry at our birth and in death say goodbye

While our good friends take the pains.

You too labor for a piece of loaf Much the same way as I do here, all day long

Under the same sun, same sky and same creed Which is of filling the belly of our throng.

Since, all these are same not by chance

But, by the fact, that we are but humankind I believe that suffices enough to call you To follow my creed so true and refined.

[31]

Let us not be held by our personal creed

But, that of our impersonal fraternity, that Fosters more love minus hatred and aversion

From our fellow mens habitat.

[32]

The Crow

Weary of flight sitting by the river bed Crukcrukcruroo cries the black crow

So much is filled therein to drink Not a single drop of water though.

Hither and thither looks he in hope

Perhaps, a shower will come in to wet Catching in sight nothing but a cloud

His thirst quenches with dry beset.

Nook to nook though the river runs Spilling-over at times it aids the land, While all beside, ruddy with its red Points towards the merciless hand.

Dribbling from the shattered bodies Here lay the river of blood and flesh,

Crow having fed on them wishes to sip A drop of water, only if it were fresh.

Neighbouring fields bear the pain

Aching with their masters suffer misery Drenched in redness of the blood

Crops bow to pray the demised and free.

The crow crying louder than before Still finds no water pouring from top All beneath its footing is sickening

Hence, it mourns for the breath to stop.

Like a fish out of water the crow Flings back and forth up and down

As if being pricked inside somewhere The pain of which is deeply sown.

[33]

Slowly creeping to the end it goes With the final breeze that passed by

None has seen anything like this Save me, the man from seventh sky.

March 29, 2003

Dedicated to the Iraqi People

[34]

The Destitute Lots

Still hearth and skeptic eyes

Raise a wonder when it dies

No one ever heard such tale

Ah! Those silent sibilant sighs,

Everywhere dispersed are they

Pondering over land and bay

Beautiful mystic as a nightingale

No one hears the song they say.

Mountains bear the brunt of them

Like the plain where a potato is gem

Despair with hope lives go on

Such is the earthly game.

They are the dolls merely

So full of life yet scanty

In their way with distinct woebegone

Happiness occurred there so rarely.

Who will dare to defy the Will?

That runs from afar this languid mill

To produce for own purpose here

At the costs of their internal kill.

Wishes and desires are withering flowers

Eyeing with the sky faints and lowers

Only to realize there

The fact of being mortal wooers.

Those doubtful gazes never rests

Near the hearth still nests

With hope that it will boil

[35]

The pot of rice in those gloomy crests.

How they live? When they die?

None to note nor spy

Such obscure and mystic soil

Wearing on where they nigh.

Distinct from those in blocks who lives

And imitating the gods openly deceives

They are the lots of fortune denied

Have no magic wand in their sleeves.

The fake gods suckle on them

Under broad sunshine and in profound hem

With each thing never belied

If one claims it a monotonous game.

Never a month when they rejoice

When they are happy making noise

Cant anyone see cant any one hear?

There are lives without choice.

Each year that goes-by

Relieves a soul consoles a sigh

But, the tolling of future near

From their conscious mind never say goodbye.

[36]

Lotus eyed maid was she

From that clan of sprightless sea

Mourning to satisfy the men

As low for a price as a bread can be.

Her daughters staged the bed at night

Her sons prayed out of sight

Her man rested sick when

She bore the brunts of fight.

Was this all she was meant to bear

And through base means kick the gear

Of not only hers but four of them

Away from glances shying-off the fear.

What manner of men are they then?

What class defines their clan?

Such people become no name

But loads of heavy burden.

That still hearth lights no fire

Burns no pot of rice, such liar!

They can feign so well

In personal throes and situations so dire.

Never a men from block dwellers

Cherished their meetings with jewelers

Such highly did they swell And boasted their being happy wailers.

August 29, 2002

[37]

The Ice-age

Long gone with the early drop The sun might be in the arctic somewhere

Roaming about for a single soul To prove its condescension there, But, white and barren lay the plain

Green has withered not a sign of life In this garden of snow and ice

Who might explain what was rife.

Years have piled a load of tales Old folks of this region find enough listeners

Among them an anxious whimsy sail Of how this green used to be and hears

Looking at the icy white cold and pinning They merely devour the chill

Unable to vision the livings of then They soundly cuddle under the hill.

Poor little things, deprived little souls Could not envision that life was rich

In times of heavenly preaching, when all knew A force beyond restraint was there to teach

How to walk upon this path of delusion And subsequently be on the track without flaws

Carrying long wayside of the confusion.

This plain too was hot someday Creatures of all sorts walked and lived Along their sides grazing and feeding

While human unearthened and believed The mysteries of cycle depended on matter

What initiated leak in the boat of joy As years heaped on top of yester years

To many loses occurred for such employ.

March 4, 2003

[38]

The Voyage

Beyond the sunset is a home sure Before the dying glint bellows

To the numberless sailors welcome says Who little did know of the echoes.

Deep from the whirling dark it calls

From that lasting fade of the passing away sun Another promise of a new day springs With an added hope of a life and burn.

Parting waves of the sibilant sea

Wounded by the sounding oars of the boys Moans and sighs to veil-less of the sky

And opens the timeless voyage.

A trackless, mapless and guideless journey Where people say god sits in his chair

In wait for us to reach and show our invitation Before to the timelessness we retire.

Chopping thro the stubborn waves

Eyeing with the endless sky full of stars Making furrows after furrows in the heart of the sea

That complains not to my oars.

Here I close down to the sunset Almost touching it, I dont, who knows why

It seems too near and still quite far Beyond and yonder still to try.

Voices call out for me, I hurry

Evening star delays its ascend I notice Rowing with full might I go

Never truly meaning to reach.

A fear strong of unknown things Having seen no God before, I wonder Who shall I meet there, who will greet?

That face will I grow fonder. Tuesday, November 25, 2003

[39]

A Beautiful Plague

Time, as if a snail on foot to cross miles Creeping below the marshy wet of tears;

On course to end the final marathon, alone- Daring in the eye my life too gears.

Far yonder I see a glint, flickering to me

As if calling to begin on epic course, Arming with love, care and amourous tools

To once more fall for the rose.

That beautiful plague so enchanting As if a girl of heavenly being has fallen

Like a leaf of oak, under my feet Dry and crispy to feel as when

Nothing else so close to being loved

Save I, whose begotten self once hurt From the same touch of tamed lass

Learned the ploys and wounding art.

Yonder in the depth of skys bosom A glint of tear ball springs to roll down

Drenching the earth withal and me Soundly staining my whitish gown,

That too, prepared for final go,

Unwilling her mean self never questions I wish, alas! Where I meander

Purposeless, hither and thither in bemoans.

May 25, 2005

[40]

Love, Romance & Melancholy

[41]

One Stony Ring

Love has lost its meaning to me,

Betrayal came to fence a day Your tears washed away all myths

Ah! That togetherness of May.

Happy be you in your marriage; Foster no memory of our parting,

Im to gauge the retreat, Thro that alley of sand and dust.

Numb and cold with desireless heart

Down the lane of mortality I go, For never your return to me will be;

Never your love again Ill know.

One stony ring of gold did snatch My only beloved, my lovely match.

13 May, 2004

[42]

The Angel of Woodland

A distant woodland-air, as if she was;

In her swift parting sweep, when she glances Lovely tulips shy to express after her thus, Their wildest want to fall like avalanches.

Truly, an angel, out for adventure, she seemed,

When between my arms of earthly clay, I felt her; Nothing belike a humans child, I deemed;

But, a heavenly soul wondering too far.

Her chastity belt was sealed by Right still She fanged me as if by choice of divinity, I thought;

Alas! Her promiscuity, where I keep? How I can heal? The wounds I took after a promise of a knot.

Tied by some unseen strings, she flew;

Higher and higher, thro layers of seven skies Upon my desire to rehearse the same anew

She went, unhearing my voiceless cries.

Like the woodland-air, as if she was, When to me, ghoulish visits she pays each day;

Lovely tulips turn their eyes to pass Their loathing for the angel, that loves to foray.

November 7, 2005

[43]

The Gigolo

Like a decayed canoe in stagnant pool Your beauty half sunken half in bloom Skills my fancy, my yearn to gulp down The fact of love under light and gloom.

What choices came thereof, when I fell; Those enfolding lips, slipped so much

Like a demeaning lover, you contrived love So alluring yet, loathsome was the touch.

As if a gigolo, I was to you, when made Lovelessly love as so they would name But, I swear no mortification was guide

To me, when I seepd in thy mortal shame.

Beads of ice, reaching short, dropped Right before the door of their fantasy Where gyring thro and thro a print Perhaps, Id have printed in eternity.

October 6, 2005

[44]

The Maelstrom

Corroded by the runny slick, the canoe Though lay intact, quiet in static pool

Her beauty weakens, her shine withdraws She yet, charms, the mongering seagull. Those gimlet eyes as if were steel hulls,

Nailing deep into maelstrom of me She swears love craftily, like a pig

Always belying the nature of the sea. That having a coast, still keeps another

As if one satisfies less, the other may more Her gulf widens to reach, deep nooks

Where no water has ever gone to devour. Shes a melting pot to her man, and me Like the betraying horizon, a lie, so free.

October 6, 2005

[45]

A Lovely Affair of Love

When you go, my desire retires

Holding the arm of sigh, life withdraws As if a breath released forever,

A fear of never having you grows. Without your knowing, I mourn

Deep inside so many prayers I say Only if you could hear them, perhaps

Never to go youd decide to stay. Alas! The lace I intertwined was weak Shredded thus, it falls apart, to let go

My beloved, if only you wouldnt And in bent of mind end the love show.

Surely a world of joy will befall us A lovely affair of love will exceed thus.

October 6, 2005

[46]

The Honey Moon

Dream it seemd, first, when I felt

Two of us in intimacy played The corporeal sport it was for certain

As I made love undelayed. Nothing said we, all but was done

Giving so much, thus far we doubted Her nectarine lips, felt so chaste I simply sipped, as it delighted.

In her color, I got staind Beautiful, glossy, it looks so well

Malleable and syrupy as honey could be Between my arms she freely fell.

Heaven, as if had come down to me Blessings, perhaps, had at last come to me.

September 25, 2005

[47]

The Shadow

A shadow quite sly, covetous and greedy Like nostalgia follows her mind, stepwise I vain repulse the thought, alas! In theft My desirous trophy, he claims as prize.

Then swearing high, he goes invisible

When I place ice-balls in the cave of joy Her doors shut at me, she thinks him by And allows me to loveless flesh enjoy.

His love is dexterity, yet she prizes him more

Despite my loyalty, she clings her trust in his name Her demands scam to believe she loves me, alas! Thinking, her man she does, I rebuff the shame.

Visits after visits I pay, she keeps her lock on

Never for a second, had she hinted love for me, Such a minx, yet I urge god must bestow questionless

For I love her most artlessly.

Alas! That shadow stays so slyly in her mind Inching deep into her faculty of thoughts like a joy

She travels under light to allow him alongside She keeps me next to her only with the want to enjoy.

Shes not a liar, nor a deserter, but a pact of both Whose heart bears not a mans heart like a lady; But, several of them at once to satisfy the desire

That perhaps, by my honest attempts, couldnt be.

Still, however, Ill let her shadow walk beside Never imploring to disallow the pact of promise Where I get only the pains, he prizes the trophy I prove I love her without demands and miss.

October 24, 2005

[48]

Your Memories

Your memories found me tonight,

And built four walls in lightening fast around me, Slow in pace they hunt and smother me;

While dark despair around benight. Of happy and sad they are blended,

Far in my back thought I, had ended. Now reminds me to recall again Of you and me together when--

Expressed and made love without feign, Promised union hereafter then;

We sever perhaps for life! Perhaps not, but some long years.

After which, I shall have you my wife, In sacrifice of hundred million tears.

[49]

Awakening, and Inspirational

[50]

The Awakening

I do not speak of light

through the clouds, Theres plenty of sunshine

in the smiles of my youth at home, for night after night

and day after day unyielding, untiring still they stand on the dome

a midst worlds resounding applauds.

Their voice cracks the dawn, the dawn crams their voice too, cries of their martyred friends,

fuel the voice still so, just justice of the foe

is the slogan bleated over and over, right here and right now,

pass the blanket of right to cover.

I do not talk of candles that lit all night through to dim

the hope the voice of youth is high

so time has nigh to mop

all our yesterdays garbage from home and let the martyrs breath again

in the air of fresh freedom beforeboishakhi clouds bring stormy rain.

[51]

The New Awakening

Wishes are like leaves of a tree

Spurting each day, they turn auburn; Over my desire to come true;

Over my feelings so blue.

Turning auburn is not the liability; Slipping from stem is what I care;

For a wrecked china jar is a mistake; For a mistake is truly not a fake.

Faking to feel well gears life

Pacing or not yet we move ahead At every step we wish in hope At every hope our wishes crop.

Like a gamblers dice on the roll

Now a chance and now a misfortune; For season of luck may favor us;

For season of luck may disfavor thus.

Should I wish in the New Year? Should my wishes be true all through?

Theres little I can tell for sure; Theres but plenty to tempt and lure.

[52]

The Post Awakening

I dont speak of light

rather the shadow that hides under my foot; treacherous, spooky and serpentine,

in its hideous steps on an unknown route, there it parades over the faithful souls

there it hunts the birds of peace; yet, my governing frame blatantly flaunts

none but I to blame the breach.

I dont speak of governance rather the course it takes on the way;

that which is less taken across the fence or that which can all hopes in array bring to light to cast away the dark andshew away the shadowy snout;

that calls to defragment this present ark which is what the grand design is about.

[53]

The AwakenersAwakening

I dont speak of the smoke

rather the fire that burns unseen; beneath the thick hay

dunked in the frothy bay; where it cooks a planned dish

with all, except the diners phish carefully soaked in each others sin;

down the alley of egg yoke.

I dont speak of the smoke rather the blurry make over of the sky;

where all hear voices so nearly true; about most of us and the rest of you; being skinned alive for deeds of past;

or killed for crimes unpunished, at last; the voices ring so much of the high

supreme wearers of the cloak.

I dont speak of the smoke rather the heat that generates from it,

that which ensures life to breed, that which passions the greed, And, tickles the lustful eyes; Over ones unheard cries;

To name, we blame and call the writ, Of God, of destiny, of past deeds to mock.

[54]

The Fallen Awakening

I dont speak of the rise

Rather the fall that hurts; Every inch of ones self shatters; Every bit of ones soul departs.

Sold for penny,

Traded for prize, Exchanged for gain;

Bartered for rise, Such is the politics of my home

Where slayed bodies stack the marts; All raccoons gather at feast

All rascals temper their hearts.

Fallen from height Tumbled from sides Dropped from sight Tossed from rides,

Such are the stories of my citizens Disowned lives breathe plenty here

Because ditched dandies run the show; Because dumb youths take their share.

I dont speak of the rise

Rather the fall in the abyss That we see not but feel

That we feel but cant miss.

[55]

The Revised Awakening

Show me the meaning of total shut down Give me a reason to comply with your call;

Theres more than just what you desire, Theres less in compliance withal.

Nationwide strikes hail like Christmas rain dears

Instead of hopeful eyes for prizes all flinch in panic, Raising but our hands to pray in company

Raising but our voices with hymns as they think; They can deny our daily go about

They can keep our rights and still flaunt While scheming through dogmatic scam;

When opportunists killed the Ram.

Thoughts, but come, steps do, yet take a u-turn And hopes rise only to surprise, chance, but one still resigns;

Promises become the commandments long broken; Awakening spirits get corrugated and poisoned vines,

That growing like Satans refuge thicken its forte That giving little to praise, more for morte;

While like atypical citizens moved by blank patriotism All sit back out of preemptive terror of jingoism;

And wait till the cloud of obscurity passes Removing the fear from daily chores of the masses.

Show me the meaning of total shut down Give me a reason to comply with your call

Neither do you differ in act and view with her Nor do you eliminate this scary enthrall.

[56]

The Flaunted Awakening

Gun me down, gun me down

Gun me down I say, Or else I will upturn to plot your prize In the poodles poop and rotten maize.

You promise like a bleating goat Exchange like a monger of oat

And reason like the old senile lady of my barn; Whos but a beauty sapped toxic fern.

You and the hooker differ not much

I can see except decencys touch, Rest is negotiable, sellable and retail

With craft yet devoid of detail.

Now you call for a shut down Then change the makeup white to brown;

And demand a trial of the pardoned crimes, And break the regular rhymes.

Your ethics is a spoiled pie Baked in frothy inky dye

Of yesterdays kill in the go; For power, for rise and for hee-haw.

Shut me up, shut me up

Shut me up, I say, Or else I will say to skin you alive And put in the fuming beehive.

[57]

The Cursive Awakening

I dont talk of the lies

I dont talk of the sighs But those succulent laboring arms That morning to evening charms

By frothing the garments dying sink And cymneying out the smoky link

What remain, pass silently by; Or seek for incense timber dry.

She neighing the door leaves not; Going so far as to go, leaves not; Hence, the suffering continues

Hopeless happening ensues And day after day, halting proceeds

Tears bruise, pain recedes.

I dont talk of the ostrich I dont talk of the hitch;

But those who can, but not; Ripping each day, what rot; The citys streets do fume;

While rest of us rush to plume; As in hiding will save us thus;

As in deserting will cut the curse.

[58]

Woman, Feminism & Empowerment

[59]

The Passover Sacrifice

Taxing past as we went, Foxing there a veiled midwife, perhaps, she were;

Whom our eyes didnt miss to snap a sight; Whom we thought wasnt paid with ketubah as right.

With her White dazzling hands stretched fully out; With her wet, numb, rosy cheeks drenched in tears

From Apocalypse of Moses as if she runs; From running in fatigue as when she turns;

Up unto heaven, her gaze transfixes, yet she walks; Up unto Heaven, her murmurs become talks;

Nothing of the sort we could guess that had set about Nothing of the guess we could make to hide fears.

The taxi driver, I overhear mumbling in disgust;

From garments cometh a moth and from women wickedness; Of women came the beginning sin, and through her we die.

Oh lie, lie, this feigned Unclean lady of modern dye!

In wonder and surprise, we look at each other then; In horror and dismay, we prize our silence when;

Away, away, far away, our road turns; Slowly, steadily and gradually her voice burns;

Of her I, I heard no more, nor seen, neither told; Of her, I thought much in solitude since the Cold;

She should belong to Maimonides released from the covenant of Mount Sinai;

She should pass the Passover sacrifice to cut the remaining tie.

Taxing past as we reached; Vexing my mind I couldnt let go;

The veiled woman reminded me of Beruryah; The Charity of God for husbandmens mafia.

[60]

Simbhat Bat at Home

Taxing past as we go

Today we see a broad desolate road lay; Where, her woos do not echo;

Where, her footprints do not show.

For, I imagine, she become a silent woman; For a silent woman is a gift for man;

For there is nothing so much as a maid well instructed; For there is nothing in instruction so well constructed;

But that of which you and I may always refer to; But that of which reference will always work too; For our purpose to maintain silence in the House;

For our House to decree the persistent vows.

Quickly, thereafter, there, I marvel with care; Will she bear a maid child to her husband, today? Will her maid child call for a Simbhat bat, at home?

Will the Simbhat bat cleanse her for the Dome?

All around, I hear worries beget worries, not peace, nor glee; All around were people of my faith, whom I rarely see - Entering Gods covenant to bring a flood on the earth; Entering the synagogue to judge the maid childs birth;

Rather at your House, than mine, she would cry over her loses; Rather at your place, for her loses, shed run from the Apocalypse of Moses,

But I do not dare say she profaneth not her father But for profanation, does she deserve fire?

Ten measures of speech though came to the world;

They say, of them, women took nine; And that Halacha has let your women to break Silence;

And that Minyon has proliferated this noise like pestilence.

[61]

The AtharvavedaOf Marriage

You are blessed with a girl child, dear, Said the doctor, unaware that a woman-

Holy wisdom personified is; And defective, but a misbegotten figure of Mephistopheles.

Whose heart is all snares and nets; Whose hands are band that frets;

From her God shy away to escape; From her sinners take no drape;

She is but a Helpmeet for her husband; She is but her husbands lesser hand;

The daughter of music who sings to fan the Airs; The singer merely who make no temple choirs.

Doesnt her wisdom enlighten you, ever more?

Doesnt her act of enlightenment show Gods image in her? Will she continue to be ruled for the Curse?

Will her Curse remain an absolute verse?

I dare not father a girl abound by vow of Nazarite, I dare not allow my wife to separate from me by right,

Shes affianced by Atharvaveda mantra to me; Shes too prized to be Blessed, and set free,

Be a mother, daughter or wife, her submission is ordained; Be a mother, daughter or wife, her cries are but feigned;

She seeks wool flax and works with willing hands; Shes but precious than jewels to her husbands.

You are blessed with a girl child, dear,

Said the doctor, unaware that a woman is denied; The right to become minister for her being an Ezer, the help;

The right to claim her as the gender transcendent God, herself.

[62]

The Duty of Yibbum

I am with child, said she;

When Tamar traded for ownership of goat, There, at once, cult prostitute could end;

There, alas! The Sin of Onan with duty of yibbum to brand. For she wears a voluptuous body, but not owns it;

For her bodys a sex machine abound by bibles writ; To her husband must she submit as she would to the Lord;

To Christ as does the church and thereby hoard; That which is the symbol of prize the scars and pain;

That which scars and pain befell her main; Are but, coins to bring her food from afar;

Are but, redemption as shes all ships and merchants far. Doesnt loving your wife as your body denies her being?

Doesnt her being cause yours? Yet, you call not your wife blessed and praise her

Yet, blessing is what you yearn for everywhere. Neither was man created for woman, they say; But, woman for man, much to ones dismay;

Submission is ordained out of reverence for Christ, how ridiculous! Submission to Christ is equaled to wifes duty to husband, how ludicrous!

Yet, she never thinks of separation from him; Yet of him she thinks highly, godly, and supreme;

Each well wisher visits to say next time god will give a son; Each son is a prospect, and girls a parayadhan.

I am with child, said she, When Tamar traded for ownership of goat;

Concubinage was her destiny socially suffixed; Concubines do, but embody shop keeping as prefixed.

[63]

Religious & Spiritual

[64]

The Faith

There is less I can tell

How the grip is loosening a bit From the ground I know Ill

Very soon cut and split.

Much like the pollen in the air Lost from the sapling flower Ill sail towards the heaven

Before the monsoon shower.

Oh! This cumbersome life Has destroyed my purpose to be

Now a moment to regret is delayed Then will the belief defy.

For you I cannot mourn

Cannot stretch my arms to hold This fitful fate has all denied Nothing can at last mould.

One blow has ended the faith

Tempered the smile I had on face Where the beauty did rule once

Now has neither glimpse nor trace.

From the tree Im now abandoned Nowhere can I go anymore Stranded by the single push

Now I strive to enter the door.

Alas! That cannot be Broken faith can never glue together

Piece by piece it represents another faith A population of disbelief greater.

August 8, 2003

[65]

The God

Windy flush of your decree on me

Feels there is God beyond somewhere Alas! This condescended fact violates

My perceptive of you anywhere.

What are you if not light you are? Touching me deep give hollow pleasure

Everywhere I feel you exist, alas! My conflicting faith with faulty measure.

Slowly creeping on the instincts tell

Youre perhaps the sweep of life That barely excites the senses to know

Youre but within me like my Nife.

God! Youre too much Godly on me Never giving in to my desires or pleas

Each time I meet your resistance Each time I know my hope flees.

February 8, 2004

[66]

The Sea of Faith

Everything else severs us,

Only the vaulted sky that is common; Between two distinct bodies as we are,

Separated by thousands of miles keep no one.

From there your breath Like the autumns wintry wind blow Orbiting the globe to me, it comes; I dont fend it off, but merely know.

Though, I cant see you, cant hear you But, I know and believe it to be true;

That you love and still seek me From this eternal cloister and its crew.

I can understand your innuendoes

No word is needed to break the silence This distance too is no harm for us Our love can sue thro any fence.

14 November, 2002

[67]

The Resolution of the Fire Fly

Flying like the fire fly

See how it burns in your heat That momentous resolution That indomitable conceit.

Ah! What a joy in self killing

No repentance of any sort to die Surely love is much cowardly to try

For men becomes so low-spirited to lie.

Falling with its burnt wings Like a tormenting soul it desires Not a touch of healing source

But a flight in to the fire of all fires.

That cooks not, nor burns but lights The Milky Way, the galaxies, and the nights

Around its glow like a dust minute How it mourns to cling with the sprights.

Its a man with focused devotion

Whose love lacks the lust of earthly joys But the want of His wealthy homage

In the abode of heaven where hoorcoys.

July 8, 2003

[68]

Before Cremation

Eyes beset with monsoonal shower

Pouring all day and night without stoppage My heart remains to quench its thirst,

Panting a drop amidst the flowage.

All swept by the flood of wintry rain Down withal a sea from nowhere appears

Feeding the nature its precious drops Not a single though for my tears.

Row on thou boat ofisher man

Slowly against the push of furrows My parting heart shall see you catch

Those little joys as fishing goes.

Shore to shore filled with watery silver A mirror is set before the forest green

All peeks to see its face there Save thou faade unseen.

Raising from calm often a hiccup

Often a tear running down the cheek Intensifies the thirst, I burn inside Not a single drop makes a shriek.

Like a fish out of water, I jump

Hoping to find a pool for a home Where swimming would be easy

For me a place lesser than a tomb.

Raining with the monsoonal gorge And overflowing the river terrains and sea

Your heart seems to have plenty to give away A little, I wish you gave to me.

One simple sweep of thy watery love Would have ceased my eternal thirst

After thy coming into my life like a joy Before cremating from a rock to dust.

December 9, 2003

[69]

War & Peace

[70]

By Their Rude Guns

By their rude guns when they shot Boys of my land bored the brunt;

Whose pulverized selves staind to lie, Their foe had started a hunt.

At the gate in watch they stayd

While boys thought fight was over From behind a torch started

Burning thro all thats in cover.

Running deep forest wide No hide-out came to greet;

Naked like a sensuous whore, One by one was fated neat.

Still though enemy without From all-sides sought were

As if snared in puddle for pray Long parched for blood theyre.

Thundering like an astray cloud

Lost from its clan restraint without; Found audacity to pour and wet

To flood the city of all about.

Their hailing mortars remind The war for freedom is still on, Seeking lives of poor innocents

To pay off the mortal loan.

August 18, 2004

[71]

PEACE: The Metaphor for US Patriotism

In the calm of his self-wounded patriotism,

His blood lay stagnant, fizzy and cool; Passing-by cavalries witness the poised death

Pulverized for days, puffed in the pool; While believers say hes owned by martyrdom.

His ice-cold body in the froth - long clogged; Do not by nature please the vultures at pray

Nor the appetite of Satan increase; But little worth to world it does in play

Serve to excite civilized effort once slogged.

This amazing narcissism knows no frontier For religion, color, race it calls to fight;

Once bread and butter had devised a cause, Now under-earths resource snatches the right

And all rush to hegemonic wear and tear.

PEACE is the name they shield their motif with; For love, for care, for humanity, they move; To plot perfect carry of nationalistic strategy;

And meet goals even if it means to life disapprove, For medic, for food, for support and such myth.

His skeleton bare of skin is a reminder

That which you own between the heaven and earth; Like a prize on casinos table tries luck,

Behind White teeth a strike of hideous mirth; A winners face appears as another finder.

November 18, 2008

[72]

Boys of My Home

Boys of my home in short trousers

Did one time the games play; When ruddy with enemys their hands werent

In their happy youthful day. Alas! That era of seventy one,

All laughters into clamours became In pursuit of ownership

When enemys cavalry came.

Belying the greenery of my land Carpeting slaind bodies in the path Red and gushing gist were mixed

Upon the ever sucking earth. Those boys didnt know what joy?

In such a game did run; Save their trickling bodies so right

For the flag of sorrows spun.

Morning did follow the gorge Red in stingy mellowed beauty Upon this breadth less Jamuna

Travelling thro to the boundless sea. Their song went waving in water Past the riverine doors of heaven

Giving the annoyance to my enemy And freedom to my starving raven.

The play ground became their bed

The final time they wore the blanket Green in the natural look and comfort

Her bosom swelled in happy yet.

June 1, 2004

[73]

The Campaign

The call to dig a wall

Wafted thro every hearts Which raising a band of warriors

Towards calamity proudly departs.

He, who plays the Satan Raised Beelzebub and Mephistopheles

Hence, from the Deads a cry begun Save the livings from the hypothesis.

Who would make a meaning of this?

When the lust for wealth is flooding deep In every mind a wish to atop runs rife

While the cost is to put the rest to sleep.

Cloud of doom mongers like vultures Often to strike dives in so fast

Before their knowing, a chunk of them is gone Such is the power of greed and lust.

In the brethren faith a vacuum shows

Which slowly widens its path While their half in crisis thrive

The rest craves for a piece of earth.

They, who found riches of the world Blessed are they in luxurious abode

Never feared a coming of thief A campaign meant to curve their road.

Now, when the vultures have gathered

Fear runs thro their veins, still Hoarding and storing upon ones poverty

They prepare the field to kill.

[74]

The call is to wipe off the race And clean the brethrens belief Though from disbelievers came Our brothers have offered relief.

This will weigh a tremendous blow Brothers will cut their relations too

The Satan will triumph over his victory Without warring with you.

Let us, therefore, become one Thro our faith of oneness and show

A band of brothers can calm the flame That rises to fuel the foe.

A campaign in the search for Peace Let us begin and mark our words Thro their cunning, they will spy Only to meet your sharp swords.

March 8, 2003

[75]

Peace at Gun Point

At point blank range, they come in peace; To restore the right of people in my state;

To rewrite history on the old furniture slate; While everyone praises the Masterpiece His chivalric gene reminds of the late.

About the late, no words wish to help

Tears chide Father of man and withdraw; Not that fear has lost its hee-how; And trepidation is wanting of yelp

Rather the shame in meaning, we know.

What of Peace, the metaphor for hostility; A perfect masqueradee over hideous purpose;

Even non-natives learned the entire prose; About oil, about slinky slobber and less about me,

Swapped over death spiting mechanic hose.

Canonized Peace hovers in the smoky sky Burying disfigured mates of my clans;

High in the altitude rise with your plans Before He tempers more with souls to fly;

And in humanitys end humanity deny.

November 18, 2008

[76]

Farmer of My Rightful Estate

Farmer of my rightful estate

Long youve pulled the plough Against this arid Floss of dry

With your wrought animals to grow, Crops of season before monsoon is set

Alas! Of those efforts littles met.

Temper stricken summers sun Transcends its ray of doom,

Fertility drained off these lands By the horrible sweep of the gloom,

That brief stay of rainy-dribble last year Reddened the streets in fresh gear.

Got you decayed hay of corpse Upon whose greasy smear rot,

Thousand daffodils spring to eye With sunny blaze of the days lot, Where hopes renew with vitality; Where joys depart to far off flee.

Dig no trench in her heart of stone No plough shall draw deep furrows

There lies the sordid horror My martyred soldiers, my heroes; Whose clamour sound a lullaby

Whose blinking brings nightly sky.

I revere the songs of the crickets Those ghostly bands of music sweet

Floating in the air keeps alive My memories of her cordial greet; Through her eyes of divine flare When I mournd to long stare.

[77]

In ravenous gorge did she spit A flurry of rubicund squint in rage From her bosom like a fountain Dawn the curves of mazy sage,

She gave away those bodies she sucked Those soldiers whom fortune lucked.

November 2, 2004

[78]

The Concoction

The concoction of desires to mar

Has engaged keen bodies on the track Rolling vigorously to dice with death

That threatens to put a check Before my will, which restraint without

Stirs in pursuit of a confirmed place In your heart, and bosom and you To deny me that they cut the lace.

My will to be has been killed

The eau of consciousness put to cease To extradite me is Right, so they say,

Solely believing you marked the crease. Whereupon, the dice of fate rolls My chance of going far too deep

Penetrating the rough fathomless chasm Of the earth in search of night to sleep.

This drowsiness of lust and greed Cannot distract my pursuit of light

From the dark depth of cosmic coffin I shall see it soon ignite;

In a continuous sweeping flow To burn us all off this temper

Teaching us rage nothing learned us Save to design and put to slumber.

March 21, 2003

[79]

The Iron Birds

The birds of seasons have long gone Flying somewhere in the arctic without knowing

That some iron bodies have taken their path Polluting the air and vowing

As they nigh the deserted village of Baghdad They drop heavy elliptic shells below

Where poor innocent lives bear the brunt And soundly demise with the blow.

The terrain that once belonged to the elephants

Today lay open to the iron giants That graze not, nor do they depend on trees

Walking like the collected clients In pursuit of domination on ground and air

They march on and fling loads of terror Which everyone seeing defies acknowledging

Such is the nature of comedy of error.

Deep in the forest birds dont chirp Nor deers hide from fear of predators Save the bodies that come to invade

With thundering songs of their zelators. I see no wings but the stretched steel

That delves deep into me and atop the sky Roaring a triumph of barbaric jocundity

Hails sparkling metals to life deny.

The child on her lap cries out of fear The louder it becomes the greater it defeats

The joyous moods of those bestial foes Whom fortune favoured amongst the petites;

Learning so much they so many forgets That weighing on fulcrum their end nears To strike where resurrection may residue

Forever, hoping a miracle poor lives cheers.

March 29, 2003

[80]

The Song of Barbarism

The song of nightingale, I no longer hear,

Save the music of the iron birds, That throwing down on earth bangs loud

A song mixed with cries and roars Setting ablaze the night skies before dawn

With such mighty blows from air That deep down in here aches me, I hide,

Sobbing has made my eyes go dry Deserted terrain of my face mourns for rain

The monsoonal clouds pass overhead I blankly see at the shattered bosom of the child

Lying ruddy upon the final bed. Whom did such an innocent soul pose threat?

Whom had he assaulted as they claim Such a tiny flowering truth of God as him

Whom could he have taken to death?

March 29, 2003

[81]

To Topple they Came

To topple a nerd two nerds came Begun a war and a bloody game

Which no one did please, save him, Whom the martyrs inflicted the same.

In the name of peace war returns

Democracy cried their tanks and guns Dying innocent civilians go, save him,

Whom it pleased to see the burns.

Scorching heat coming of the blows Those roaring machines never slows

Firing since the first, save at him, Whom the Satan everybody knows.

Upon the wings of B52 liberty flew

The altitude where lark couldnt pursue Democracy was poured in the shape of bombs Having seen enough still fresh seems the view.

Clamours that cracked the earths bosom

Mothers tears that made trenches fathom, The multitude of their assaults never ended Like the incessant waves thrived to loom.

Eyes of the wonderers remained fixed

Seeing so much yet they seemed perplexed, The venomous quagmire deepened their foot

Where they marched it sunk and vexed.

From defeat a victory sprung so well, Which no one had predicted turned a hell

Upon those preachers whom paradise shunned, For their treachery and menacing spell.

[82]

O my cohorts rise to smile and bear, The joy of victory has found the steer To roll forth in pursuit of the home,

Which is brevity in the face of the fear.

To topple they had come though Now to shuffle back they will go, This has been a win for us so far

Everyone ascertains you must know.

April 2, 2003

[83]

Tread Slowly

Tread slowly upon my grave

Your footsteps disturb my sleep Your giggles pierce my ears

Your incense poisons me deep.

Speak no tongue save mine That by birth you came to learn

Sing the song of my mother Which she sang to the lantern.

Calm your footing over the meadow

Here lie the brave souls Giving their lives who earned a home

Live peacefully begin no duels.

Do not redden my cloak I have taken pains to clean it green

Ever since that rubicund play Many horrible sights Ive seen.

Feed no gun with bullets

For when they shoot cries atop the bang Behind their creepy smoke appears

The truth of the hatreds fang.

Parade no more upon my bosom I feel the shake which crumbles the walls

The foundation is collapsing Listen to the martyrs calls.

Calm the guns that roar

Day and night and night and day Incessantly slaying to top the score

Stop reddening my surrounding clay.

[84]

Voice no Guns

Oh! Voice no more the guns and tanks

Their blasting roars cover the cries That raising after the demised ones

From the relics before reaching dies.

Atop the mountain no flicker of light Nor the eastern sky ablazed by sun

Oh! God, in their solitary darkest night Show them the ever smiling moon. [Send a flame to light their mun.]

Hail no more those elliptic bodies

That touching the soil in cynical jocundity Freights the inhabitants of the worse

And brings darkness in their lee.

Call me a hermit who loves to sing The song of oneness, the lyrics of joy And dance over the beats of nature

Build by the divine for a wonderful ploy.

I see you truly no different than me Why do you then seek my blood?

Living under the same vaulting sky We know what deeply flood.

March 29, 2003

[85]

Brandishing

Escrowing the man who once ran

Upon the sentiments of poverty felt people The governing voice was his alone

Whom your jingoist merit didnt couple. Thus crushing beneath those heavy rovers

That bangs on sight of a commotion and smoke In triumph of a madmans jocundity

What seems a display of power, and broke, The promise of ever specious relationship; Between two entirely unorthodox beliefs, Though by far had conjoined you and me

Now with your denying seek relieves.

Your disfigured appearance scares me too The man you were, not anymore seem to be

A sheer paint of cosmetics, what hides the wrong, And falls beyond the perceptive of me.

Distilled and yet a mixture of both, hate and love Never meaning to give away you move on

Such formidable fear you pose to all, despite Yourcoloured swearing to help me push on.

How I rise against the might, which you became? Assaulting me from behind and front

Then brandishing me with the wounds I get in war You show some care, while I bear the brunt.

April 7, 2003

[86]

Patriotism, Loyalty & Devotion

[87]

Bangladesh: My fate and flaws

This country can breed no soldiers Nor men brave enough to restore

My mothers purity is being violated by them, To whom she offered as a home before.

Her daughters get raped now and then,

Her sons die over small dissensions Leaving my mother bleeding profusely,

The rising heads crop thro seasons.

Though brothers by faith and racism they are, Yet to stab at each other they let go no chance

For as cheap a reason as pelf and rice Upon the fingers of aristocracy they dance.

Each home in my home is threatened

The people are terrified and worried therefore, No Salam, nor Barkat, neither Rafik can turn,

From that sacrifice which brought us this clamour.

Bloodshed and mass slaughtering is the rampant game, Mistaking the fight for freedom they colour the streets,

Such ignorant race that realize it not, Fighting no enemy they face so many defeats.

Who needs soldiers to spoil the budget?

When there is no fight or enemy at the door, But my brothers and sisters and kith and kin,

Who cutting my healthy body seems to enjoy more.

And when I take a step forward they pull me back, Hunkering into my affairs they find faults,

My effort to raise the name of my nation fails, As to shut my voice they point their frigid assaults.

[88]

A springing flower they hate to observe, But it is the same object for which 71 had occurred. That horrible leaf of my history book still haunts me,

When death angel hollered on top and machine guns hunkered.

But, tell me are we free yet, to breath fresh air? From suppression, repression and all sorts of depressions, Tell me are we through yet, why the guns still roar then?

Who is the target of its bullet? What are the reasons?

I hear a mother crying, but no one tells me why Her son lay in the hospital bed, surgeons keep a distance,

Neither a dress to wear him last goodbye Nor a sermon to placate the haze, so whimsical and intense.

What is to become of such a land?

Where betrayal is the promise and oath for survival? If this world exceeds to see will bear witness, Im sure,

The end of a civilization beneath the soil withal.

Not a trace to speak of our deeds will remain, For no deeds as great as the freedom we had earned

From century to century will pass on to say Bangladeshis had the courage which the rest had yearned.

January 13, 2003

[89]

City of Dead

Clamorous blustery circle in the blue,

All men at work, busy themselves to discry; Silencing her son, she burns the empty pot

As if she cooks, a mouth watering pie.

Relics of her ashes, prove she feigned, Across the lamppost her tent blew away;

When her man, toiled to earn a bread She and her daughter fetched the day.

O city of dead, learn with me to sob,

The tears she sheds, could be yours too Deafen not yourself in melody of rejoice

Crowd the fair to nil the chances, if they do.

November 7, 2005

[90]

Bangla is Bleeding Again

Bangla is bleeding again, I wonder why

I thought the war was over thirty two years ago When three million lives were slaughtered

Their women raped, tortured and raped again, And, their youth brutally murdered in broad-day-light

But, that was a war, and we had an enemy too.

A huge stream of blood drained through the channel Covering every nook and corner of the valley, it stained,

Bangla was seen as if a newly wedded bride Emerging on the map of the world, to sue permanence, Giving you the language and a free land you fought for

Where spring after spring happiness rained.

Look at that flag, study it carefully That is no sun, never can be, that red ball

Yes! That is the mark of blood drained by your forefathers To earn this magnificent land and your tongue

Upon whose bosom you are playing Holly You are shedding each others blood, regardless of the call.

Mothers are afraid to send their girls out,

Fathers worried for their youth, what is this fear? Why is there no safety for us in this independent land?

Why do you wish to cut my throat? I never meant any harm; Im your own brother try to realize me

We suckled from the same breast my dear.

How many times do you wish to wed our motherland? With how many lives this time? For what?And why?

Stop this game of killing, lets play a fair game In which there is a winner and there is a looser

Give your best to win us all through to this complex game Which is of honour and making a point not to die.

[91]

Boishakhi Litany

Boishakh has come with fresh vigor Tossing and flinging the tall mango tree

From side to side though it rocked it And yet from its root it couldnt free.

Such might the tree did show Against a might far greater and cunning

I wish they had seen this too That baffled me with a stunning-

Display of will and courage. But, its children almost all fell down Where I stood a mango or two were Lurking to be found eaten and sown.

Being tempted by the rich rubicund glow

My hands reached for some I watched the distant drizzle and ate

The tender pale and numb---- Piece and to thank the tree in turn

As I went to plough the seed Right beside her mother I found

The soil ruddy as if did bleed. Out of the cut I had made so many

Beads of red balls gushing from below Flowed under trance of Boishakhi Litany,

When stumbling upon a root I sprained my toe.

I heard thro that terrible storm a voice That cried louder than the thunder boomed

Told me not to unravel, not to sow anymore trees But leave this sacred place of the doomed.

When at once a boisterous noise, not from above nor nothing like thunder

Shook my frame, I saw that fire blink And with it came another cry; perhaps a mother

Seeking out her son who was gathering mangoes in the woods But why did she sound like weeping

I couldnt understand my mind was at the end of its tether.

[92]

Hey Boishakh:

To Celebrate or not to Celebrate

Like the turn of pages

Like the mushrooming of ages Episodes part, we grow old

A year goes-by with stories untold Perhaps, like always, to renew the course of knowledge,

Since childhood school to the adolescent college; Scores will reach high above three quarter of heaven,

Where meeting the summit, we fall little short of seven.

The course of knowledge never quite in black and white Nor of pain, success or struggle in public sung for right

Yet, jubilant by the fresh vitality of Boishakh - they party What not, but for the pictures of defacement & charity To tribute the vengeance struck fool of thundery raid

Limited in lines and brush each one said Only of the hissing surge & swell at night

And roaring light of skys sight All that makes up the awaited Boishakh

Simply shattered in the path of have not & luck.

Like the sifting of paddy from rice Like the sacrifice of goat for price A life is found, many more are lost

Whereupon each one gather at a toast Some doubt if elation of achievement is the cause

Or the ruins & relics of Boishakhi pause Either ways, celebration obscures the sorrow in the spree Of many who pass to promise a safe tomorrow for me.

April 13, 2008

[93]

Lines Written on Dhaka City

Cries rock the calm of this city

Blasting in magnitude apples wrong Those stressful peddlers lie down

In response to the death song. Bearded men disprove their faith Islam became the organized evil;

Its followers take the pride to pass In suicidal mission to take the fill.

O man of ill-intellect retrospect

The shredded satin will fashion your attire In quick time youll near the loss

Without enemy youll submit to retire. The increase of knowledge is the cause Ah! Such a cause, filthy in its etiquette

Promising life, death renews at every step Words falter, ideas lag meeting the fate.

Are there no wise men to initiate first time?

Walking through the untroddengalis Take the nation higher still to the rank And prove successful as true Bengalis O my utopia, how I miss? the cause, Polluted from the womb, we all pollute Despite a desire to vary, by fact of plan

We share hand in hand the loot.

[94]

Life, Existence & Reality

[95]

A Fallen Girl

Dropping her eyes like a fallen girl

Before my presence was felt Slowly walking upon my heart Long before sun rise she left.

Some said she brought us shame Some claimed she was a whore, But, none had desired to know

To whom she had opened her door?

As I breathe her footprints fade away Like a storm blowing in the valley of sand

Removing all the traces and relics While I crave for her hand.

With me she had cropped a love

In the silence of night that found us joy We promised each other a life

That everybody did annoy.

Barefooted like the deluded soul Holding his hand thinking of me There she walks upon my heart

I cant do anything but calmly see.

March 16, 2003

[96]

Loves Tavern

As cheap as twenty takas

For the whole night to devour With elite tipsy liquor

The enfolding cave of Mehnaz.

Two slender poles softly unrolls Like the petals of a newly blossomed rose

A well so mystic opened, depth of which no one knows But my shaft that paid the tolls.

Twenty plus spells, still demanding for more

How much can she endure this Frictional Game? How far am I to go still, as when I came?

There it strokes four.

The bright pierced my eyes, I woke up Her bare self lay by my side

I see her, turn away and see her hide Just flesh, all she gave in a cup.

* * * Loves tavern they called this place

Where twenty taka was enough to satisfy, By lovelessly loving the girl with whom, we lie,

Until the sunrise in fits of carnal craze.

October 21, 2002

[97]

River Shunned Her Body

River shunned her body raised

A question for everyone; Will she find a grave for burial?

Or lay with funeral undone?

Poor the doom beset with her Promising high left betrayed;

Like a husband raping his wife Leaves her faith strayed.

Ending life was the purpose

Which her fate did allow; Alas! Her decaying body so pure Ventures to enter earth below.

Those beside in tears burnt eyes

Are her parents so helpless; Cursing the ways of divine

Rudely deny their own mess.

August 21, 2004