The Solitary Ant

The solitary ant wonders
Amidst many steps it takes,
Where should it go?
It goes to the right, to the left,
To the North to the South
To the East to the West
And to many more directions in between
And yet it finds nowhere to go.
Its family has gone away,
None of the other ants are close by.
It tries to find the path
Which would take it back
From where it came
Or where it wanted to go.
But the path is missing.
It has been trodden by the dust and wind.
The marks its predecessors made
Are lost to it forever.
It must find its own path,
Make its own road,
Find its own destination.
All other journeys and destinations
Are taken and gone and lost forever.
The solitary ant must go alone.
Alone it must go.


It’s All The Same Anyway

The world will not wait for me,
But you love?
They will move on and keep going,
But you my love?
Will you wait?
Wait for my decisions?
Wait till I overcome my desires
And make the world hear my denials?
Will you wait?

The world will not wait, no, it will not wait.
Wait for me, for my visions and my revisions.
Why should it?
Who am I?
But you my love?
You are a part of me for whom I go on.
I shall for you one day become what I am to be,
Or am I that already?

No, no one knows me,
Nor do they care.
This fair world, this beautiful world
Extending to foreverness knows me not.
And I have nothing to do with it.
For I know you, don’t I?
And you, you love me, don’t you?
Or is it just a dream?
Or a truce between you and me?

Is there no hope for me then?
No sanctity in my profane path?
I will have to go alone?
I will go alone.
But without you why should I go?
Where should I go?
Hold! I fall!
Let go now, I have fallen.

Let me break against hard concrete.
But would I break?
Will the plaster not fall off?
Or everything will be as it is,
The cars will go on, flies will hover over sweets
And in the afternoon the sweat will fall in sweets.
Where am I?
Oh yes, nowhere.

What? What sound is that?
You don’t hear it?
Then I must have gone mad.
I’m hearing voices today, and tomorrow?
Tomorrow they will laugh or cry.
It’s all the same anyway.
But I will know the difference,
Yes, yes, I will know the difference.

Where did I leave you my love?
Or did you leave me?
Who knows?
Oh, I do! I do!
But who am I?
I am the one who told you to wait,
So let us go now, together.

Ah yes, yes. You are not here.
I am seeing things.
But you look so frail
As if age has touched you.
That’s strange! Ha! Those creams didn’t work.
Eh, they never do, they never do.

I am old now, they say.
My eyes darken and gas builds up in my guts.
It’s hard to stand and walk
But I must go on.
Where? Where must I go on?
Oh, go on, go on!
I have promised you, I must go on.

Why do you hear my musings?
I am a fool, an old fool.
I don’t know my name
But you do, don’t you?
Come help me pick up these fallen things.
What? Nothing has fallen?
Oh, it must be me then. Pick me up!

But the kids ran away.
See them go!
Didn’t I tell you? Didn’t I?
The world will not wait, the world will not wait.
But you my love?
Will you wait, till I come back?
I shall go on. I will come back.

What? No, no let me go!
This toil is mine, mine it is.
I will dig the earth, find the treasure.
Treasure? There is no treasure. Just corpses.
Bowels and limbs mixed in the mud, rotting.
Soon it will rain, soon it will clog
And soon it will float in my garden.

I have read the classics
Or have I read the gothics?
It’s all the same anyway.

Who is at the door?
A messenger perhaps.
Or some kid, come again to trouble my old bones.
‘Wait, will you wait?’
A letter.
She waited and died waiting.
And the world will not wait.
Why shall it?
Go! Let go! Let me go!

I cry and I laugh,
It’s all the same anyway.

Faith: A Poem

The colours I see are all black

And drunk with desires of rage.

The magical eyes of Faith lack

What faith men had ages back.

The reeking wounds of my hope

Tell the tattletales of my pestilence.

And the darkness wearing its ghastly cope

Appears not the reptile but the rope.

Lo and Behold! Here comes the light!

Oh this light blinds my eyes!

This scorching asks me of flight.

Will then there be no end to this plight?

What plague pains my nerves,

Do I know? Do you know?

What end does it serves

With all its gyres and curves?

How far can I ramble?

One day I’ll fail, I’ll fall.

What voices have created preamble?

All I say is babble!

My voices hush and seek corners.

Do I dare walk? Do I dare write?

Will I offend some God or mourners?

Would I be against fellow foreigners?

Will you be pleased at me

When I write what befits you?

How far am I allowed to see

How deep can I go without a killing spree?

What do I have in one loose hand?

A broken dream, a lost faith, a stumbling hope.

Would I be cast away? Like others be banned

If I speak? Should I join a band?

I make shapes on my sheet

Thinking of inoffensive terms and  themes;

Something safe, not to strike heat

Amongst those with no rhyme or beat.

What do I speak? Who knows?

My voices are trodden with thousand bells.

Go pray! Your head knows its bows,

But your heart shows what it shows.

But is there something else to be seen?

‘Hush! Speak no more!’ Prophet commands,

‘Speak no more! Eyes closed, drooling tongues in.

Follow! Follow! There I have been!’

The Terrible Goddess

The rain has come again

And Ganges rises to meet

Its long forgotten banks.

By the riverside people tremble,

This affair of land and water

Threatens to end their lives.

The muddy water creates ripples

Of its desire

And banks fall in answer.

Their mud dissolves, colours the water.

The river answers a few prayers,

It comes to meet people

In their houses.

They run away,

Afraid of their prayers.

The river follows them

Rippling, dancing, laughing.

Men in cabinet pass bills

And yawn and throw shoes.

‘People are dying’ they say

And some die to prove the point.

The river recedes after the union,

After it has consummated with the banks.

And her offspring cry and laugh;

Broken houses, floating bodies,

Lost livelihoods and found nothings.

New reports are filed,

New plans are made

And paper fulfills its destiny.

Next year she will come again,

The Terrible Goddess;

Worshipped and loved,

She will strike fear and then play.

She will run and sprint,

Laugh and roar, break and tilt.

But the people won’t care,

They’ll run away

Only to come back again.