BECAUSE I LIE

Because I lie
you will catch me somehow
some day
though not now

I would give
myself away because I would slip
at that critical moment
my cunning I can't always keep

though I had triumphed
many a time--in many a place
the mask must fall down
and what I inherit would only be disgrace

but I'm used
to telling every lie--I can't stop
I have become my own victim
and at the end I must lonely sob.

But such people-
the mighty, the powerful
the rich, the pseudo- intellectual
the influential
are the most odious

what **** sapiens?
they are the mal-products
of evolution
who bring shame
to the human race
in their inhumanity

bullies
narcissists
items of assorted pathology
but they can't see-
' We are the authority
and can't do wrong'.

In the newspapers
they are the centre-piece
their pride oozes
from their every paw

but time brings down
even the mightiest
and such people end up
as discarded old newspapers
in the dust-bin of history
where they belong so appropriately.

Because of memory
hate, more than love, returns to roost
(love knows its place and needs nothing
its steadfast joys to boost).

The gaps of time are closed
the past like a cinema-screen unrolls-
faces, scenes, places, words, dreams
sorrow and pain--each its story unfolds.

Memory like a task-master
wields its well-seasoned whip
its punishment it threatens to unleash
with cuts painful and deep.

Now in my days of decay
yet I've not forgotten-
me you did abandon without a single reason
do you dare ask to be forgiven?

From a broken heart
tears will fall to water
the garden of love
that someone will come to  be your lover.

If the sorrows of love
you never did know
how would you taste that ecstasy
when love its splendour doth show?

Enough of the moon and stars
of serenades sung under the moonlight
of wines spilled on the floor
of passionate kisses late after midnight.

Night is a heartless seducer
tricky games on lovers it does play
how many hearts has it misled?
how many has fallen  prey?

Enough of make-believe
of dreams doomed to perdition
of promises to be broken
of vows that will fade into oblivion.

Who says life is  never-ending romance
love is meant for eternity?
so many poets had been unhappy in love
they assuaged their agony through heartbreak poetry.

HUMAN FRAILTIES
Smiles do not tell the true character
Love is not what it seems
Friendship can be faked
There is deception in dreams


Words hide too many lies
Promises are made to be broken
Who would self-accuse
Condemn words he has spoken?

Who is to say-
old age is wisdom?
rather it's an
unknown kingdom.

The older I get
the less I know for sure
life is a mysterious continent
to live is to struggle, to explore and to endure.

Certitude, what certitude?
wisdom, what wisdom?
human intelligence is finite
the mind that's fixed on certitude is serfdom.

In the beginning  nothing I knew
and at the end--still nothing
nay,  old age is doubts and the
beginning of learning.