I can not cry; but try to alter the faulty
System  unjust; exploitative, crafty.
Not by guns or bombs; but by words
Sharper to pierce the heart of  lords..

Oh! In oil India boils, by brothers‘  plan,
As chicken- in the political, luxury-pan
While the fans of selfish Capitalism fan
The gas ,Cylinders gasp violently, man!

Inflation by salary hike conflagrates
As corruption fumes out choking rates
At the wading helpless, hopeless voters
By fiscal magic masquerades of looters.

In surging words as mirage in deserts
They drag us through the slums -concerts
To vote, to enthrone them with whips of laws
Supported by the ambitious callous fellows

But, I hear the giggling behind the curtain
As silhouettes  briskly move  for certain.
No more sobbing ,dear ,in our  tribulation
But opt ,no more sale of votes  in election.
.

Cooling air, the senses assault
Done is the day, I’ve earned my salt.
Daytime light has turned on me
On moonlit streets such trickery
The pleasant splash, those leaves on foot
Make drunk these nostrils, nectarous soot
Pensive mood floods the mind
And of their beauty I’m truly blind
I do not think of Autumn whole
Only alms within my bowl
As you’ll see I’m leaf inspired
Though their rudiments I have mired
Autumn ring, the chilling tenors
Rejoiced and played in earthly manors
That icy rush makes cold the spirits
Yet conflagrates ye adherents
That festive smell, incense the air!
No motive o’yours ever err
And though the day leaves more hastily
These changing leaves get the best o’me
Transient seconds plump and inspir’d
Of your natural portraits I’ll never tire
The mountainside, my most treasur’d mosaic
Whatever great works, it’s more archaic
Falling to the ground, like listless colorful rain
Whether as the nemophilist, or seated behind a pane
These little souls returning to earth
Fill me with the greatest mirth
Though they exemplify an age ended
Verbiage they have transcended
I’d fill my days with gallery mileage
Gladly glut with their splendid sillage
As they flit, the stuff of dreams
In their midst, pure sophrosyne.
Day or night I’m overcome
Eyes wide open and stricken dumb
Overcome with words and tune
Bursting forth, this ideal plume
And like a flower, complex in bloom
Can’t be captured, hemmed and hewn
Vapor these words, though fall inspire’d
No due medium, pen or lyre
Untouchable this golden essence
Wealth of ideas, gone in seconds
Appropriate, it seems to me
My head, my thoughts a leafy tree
Arrives the autumn, gold and dun
Thousands escape when I reach for one
So I’ll just watch in quiet awe
The beauty whole, no hem nor haw
Not try to make that art my own
Won’t reduce it to rhyme and tone
I’ll simply revel their naïve lull
Ephemeral, yes, but never dull
Shout out happily in leafy halls
Marry to words what return my calls
Leave thou ******, in pulchritude pall
And question not what comes of fall.

I can not cry; but try to alter the faulty
System  unjust; exploitative, crafty.
Not by guns or bombs; but by words
Sharper to pierce the heart of  lords..

Oh! In oil India boils, by brothers‘  plan,
As chicken- in the political, luxury-pan
While the fans of selfish Capitalism fan
The gas ,Cylinders gasp violently, man!

Inflation by salary hike conflagrates
As corruption fumes out choking rates
At the wading helpless, hopeless voters
By fiscal magic masquerades of looters.

In surging words as mirage in deserts
They drag us through the slums -concerts
To vote, to enthrone them with whips of laws
Supported by the ambitious callous fellows

But, I hear the giggling behind the curtain
As silhouettes  briskly move  for certain.
No more sobbing ,dear ,in our  tribulation
But opt ,no more sale of votes  in election.
.

When the poet loves, the poet gives birth
The poet reigns over the vast lands of the earth
As the love grows, the poet conquers all the seas
With ink-stained hands, the poet shapes galaxies

A poet in love crowns a special muse
His ocean of inspirations, the poet's mind on a cruise
Hands grow exhausted, crumpled papers accumulate
Verbal perfection, the poet seeks to create

The poet sings, lyrics morph into his beloved's name
Eyes descry a lovely face, metaphors embody a frame
With mellifluous words, the poet builds a pedestal
Through his poetic verses, his beloved turns immortal

The air the poet breathes, the radiant sun in the sky
The joy at Christmas Eve, fireworks during 4th of July
Furious storms, calming breeze, devastating earthquakes
The beloved adapts any form, whatever the poet makes

Resplendent rainbows insipid compared to corporal curves
Art erupting from pens, embellishing what eyes observe
From vivacious mornings to sleepless nights
The beloved is everything - everything, the poet writes

But on a daily basis, the poet wages into an inconspicuous war
A pen as his reliable sword, stacks of papers hide every scar
A war of incarcerated words, of subdued emotions
Even the most trivial move can shatter the crystal elation

The poet writes when in bliss, all the more when morose
Describing through flowery words, the beauty in an overdose
The beloved's candle-like fingers transmogrify to perilous daggers
Affectionate lips emulate a whirlpool at the heart of ocean waters

The poet seeks the tranquil blue in a bed of scarlet flames
Ears hearing strident chains of profanities as endearing names
And the poet still loves, never ceases to write
Exacerbation of the rational mind and melodramatic heart's fight

The sun conflagrates the flesh, moon freezes the core
Billows that used to dance vehemently washes the poet ashore
A hand grips a pen tighter and writes some more
Words of today vociferously emerging from yesterday's door

When the poet loves, the poet gives birth
His love reigns over the vast lands of his earth
Then it blinds the poet's sight, defiles the poet's ink
His own words are the music as he dances on the brink

When you gaze upon me,
Tell me what you see?
Squinted eyes and crooked smile,
Or buried misery?
I hide these wounds,
I hide them well,
They seeth beneath,
And burn like hell,
Don't pry that door,
Nor turn that handle,
Peak not in windows,
My life in shambles,
My hate is boiling,
The kettles black,
I'm ****** again,
and can't hold back!

Alas, I'm free of your ****** cage,
And now you too shall share my rage,
You can't control me, little boy,
The spread of misery does bring me joy,
I take the things you claim to cherish,
And twist them til they seem nightmarish,
You asked me once, what do I feel?
It's ,
Taste that coldness you're turning numb,
No wait, the suffering has just begun!
You shall not quit, you spineless wretch,
I throw out anguish for you to fetch,
You chase it down and pounce upon,
Now bring back what I have thrown,
Your teeth sunk deep into this bone,
This bone of hate, filth, and decay,
Now it is your turn to slay.
And breathe... breathe...

I smell it on you, like perfume,
This scent of hatred that you exhume,
It's curled and wicked, it permeates,
This rage, it smolders and conflagrates,
Flesh curled from bone, seared away,
Lash with tongue, til hearts are flayed,
Wound and strike and desiccate,
Released from chest is all my hate!
Eyes roll back, this ecstasy,
My soul, now cleansed, is now set free,
My words and hate I must now sheath,
Beware, my friends, what lurks beneath.