In India pongal is the best festival
It is not a mere ritual
We celebrate it in January
It is very very customary
It lasts for three days
Bhogi,sankranti and kanuma are the days.
On the first day we have a holy bath
Thinking that it sets us on the right path
Early in the morning we sit around the bhogi fire
Thinking it is the demon Ravana’s pyre
We put on a new and attractive attire
Dreaming life is a joyful boat shire
Children make wreaths of cowdung
Throw them into the fire like a gold ring
The villages are full of colourful bullocks
We sing folk songs taking neem sticks
The bride groom leaves for the mother-in-law’s house
The bride waits for him wearing a new saree and a blouse
Father-in-law gives the groom a costly gift
Mother-in-law makes a sumptuous feast
Younger sister-in-law teases the groom
The bride and the groom confine to the room
Mother prepares delicious dishes and pickles
Father goes to the farm worshipping the sickles
On the last day we go to the temple fair
I hope I made the happy pongal very clear
Yours sincerely,
JVL NARASIMHA RAO

introduction

teeth must be brushed
with neem or miswak
or rubbing chalk or baking soda
or horse-tail hairs fixed to ox-bone
or with your modern toothbrush
with which if you brush too vigorously
you might swallow
especially
if you’re also thinking about ***;
and which you might regurgitate
if your boss comes to memory


and so
come, all ye
with clean teeth:
we shall speak today
of the origins of the toothbrush –
how did this begin,
this long-suffering toothbrush
put into foul mouths
or delicious mouths of maidens
and drowned in water and saliva and paste?
how indeed did it begin?
what is its genesis? its origin?



1
we must start with the stone age
when the best
those Brainless Beasts could do
was to use a fist
and so they punched each other
and broke all their teeth –
and perhaps that was just as well,
and they were clever
as they didn’t have to worry any longer
about brushing their teeth


then some-ape had a brilliant idea
(thanks to evolving intelligence)
and two would stand mouth to mouth
teeth to teeth
and would rub teeth against one another
and sure, they ended up
with lips and faces all cut asunder –
but hey, this was the Stone Age;
what do you expect them to do?
Be refined and all
with soft bristles and golden handles?
at least this way it brought humanity close


But God (He was Stone Age too,
and still is in many ways)
saw all these and He screamed from above:
Hey! Stop that, you Big Apes!
The first commandment I gave you all
was:
“Thou Shalt Not Kiss!”

And so with this First Commandment
God separated humanity forever…

Grunt!Grunt! said one Stone Age Oaf
which translated means: When can humanity kiss?

And God thought about it and said:
You got to evolve!
Wait till the advent
of a man called Voltaire
of the nation of the blue, white and red –
and that nation shall perfect the kiss.
Till then you brutes,
Thou shalt keep thy teeth clean.
Try something else, you imbeciles!

And Stone Age man,
left to their inventions, tried
smashing teeth against boulders instead




2
the dear Chinese
as you know
invented paper
and they also invented a toothbrush of horse-hair
with an ox-bone handle even in 1223
and since 1498 used the bristle toothbrush;
and from China it spread to the West
which Foreign Barbarians
after brushing their teeth
badmouthed the Chinese
and still, it is believed,
continue to do so


so, consider,
(and be grateful)
with the invention of paper
and the toothbrush
the Chinese really took care
of either end of the digestive system,
you know what I mean;
and who can beat that? -
they even give you Chinese takeaway
to eat before you brush;
and it’s worth repeating -
paper to take care of things after,
you know what I mean



conclusion**

and that ends our history
of the toothbrush;
and just remember
before you put it in your mouth,
the cockroach
(that blessed and most useful
of all God’s creatures)
has already cleaned it up
of all food bits and pieces

If you stare out of a window
Across a bleak garden some September morning
If the neem tree in the garden reminds you of home
Vast, old, timeless
If you remember playing under a neem tree in Allahabad
And you can almost hear the laughter of children as they play
In the heat of a sultry afternoon in June
And because the window is small and barred and cannot open
Because you want to breathe freedom
Because you want to shower without them watching
Because you silently swallow your screams
Because your mind is starting to get fuzzy
Because your tongue is starting to slur
Because you have started drooling
Because your fingers shake when you write
Because the words Ritalin Prozac Depakote Lithium
Have started sounding like poetry
Because you feel your resistance slowly dying
Because you start to say the words they want to hear
Because you know the glazed look in the eyes of others
Is in your eyes too
Because this confluence of muscle and bone is wasting
Because you sleep for hours
Because you now smile at your doctors
Because you scream when the ECT paraphernalia is wheeled in
Because no one cares
Because once you’re labeled, you will be forever
Because asylums were once freak shows
Because asylum is not what it means
You go back to staring
Staring
Staring
Staring
Staring
Staring
­ Staring
Staring

Ek kyk na die wiskunde geletterdheid vraestel
wat uittartend voor my le en skreeulag.
Elke vraag is nog 'n klap in my gesig
nog 'n uur wat ek in 'n warm stort moet gaan sit
om myself weer moed in te praat.

Ek het lankal reeds al die stetoskope
van my kinderdrome ashoop to gestuur.
Die laaste bietjie hoop uit my onskuld gekerf
toe hulle se dat ek die masjiene moet afskakel
en vir my spieel gaan se, dat ek dit nie gemaak het nie.
"Gee eerder op" lui die pedagoog se kreet.

"Jy hou ons terug seun" , vertel jy my
"as jy nou nog nie verstaan nie, sa jy
ook nooit nie. Gee maar op."
Ek was eers die boogseun.
*** verder jy my terug getrek het,
*** vinniger het my pyl op die teiken
af gestraal...
Nou is ek die rekseun... ek hou jou terug
en as jy trek, breek ek.

Jou ekstraklasse was te duur gewees,
ek kon nie my wiskunde angelegdheid bekostig nie.
Ek moes maar terugsit en kyk ***
ander skole met onderskeiding by jou deur uitstap.
Ek kon ongelukkig nie bekostig om slim te wees nie.

Onthou jy toe jy op daardie koue wintersdag
verby my gejaag het en my verskree het
oor die missie en serpie wat my net
aan die lewe gehou het?
Ek is jammer dit was nie jou kleur nie,
maar probeer verstaan...
ek is nie 'n onderwyser nie.
Wanneer jy huistoe kon gaan
moes ek my studentlike pligte uitvoer
en tot laatmiddag by die skoolbly.

Ek is jammer dat my ma werk.
Dit is tog so ongeskik van haar.
So selfsugtig om kos op die tafel te probeer sit
en so my verhoed het om aan sport deel te neem.
Ek weet tog *** belangrik sport vir jou is.
Jammer ek kon nie 'n meningvolle bydra
tot jou donnerse sportregime maak nie.
Jammer ek was 'n nuttelose suurstofdief
, soos wat jy my genoem het.

Eks jammer ek kon nie my punte
bekostig nie. My handgeskrewe take
en spoeg-en-plak plakate was 'n
vernedering tot die vlekvrye mamma-pappa-take.
Linte was in die mode.
Linte en ander oulike beursie plukkers.
Jammer dat ons beursies
leeg was, maak nie saak *** ons
daaraan prober pluk het nie.

Jammer dat ek nie man genoeg was
om myself te beskerm teen nege honderd seuns nie.
Dit is skandelik. *** kon ek so swak wees
dat ek nie eers nege jaar se "ou grappies"
kon aflag nie. Jammer dat ek dit nie snaaks vind
as daar op jou geurineer en gespoeg word nie.
*** kon ek nie lag vir die hilariteit van
asblik skroot , soos kougom en gemifde brood
in my tas en pennesakkie nie.
Ek wens ek was nie so swak nie, dan kon
ek ook dalk myself teen die 14 seuns beskerm het.
Jammer dat hulle my so maklik kon oorweldig.
Jammer dat hulle my kon teister
en rondgooi soos 'n vloerlap.

Ek vra nederig om verskoning,
dat ek daaroor kom kla het.
Meneer is reg, ek is 'n sussie.
Net 'n moffie soos ek sou
kom kla het. Jammer om meneer
se tyd so te mors, dit was verspot van my
om te **** meneer sou iets daaran doen.

Nou is ek ietwat geskend. Menere
en manne het al gesweeptong en asyn
op my kaal rug.

Nou sit ek Sentraal in die kakstorm
en jy wonder hoekom ek nie meer
onder die top 20 is nie.

Nou sit ek hier onder tussen die wiskunde "Jee"
vraestelle en huil.
My enigste vertroosting is dat ek nie
heel onder is nie, en dat jy die hell is
waaruit ek nog sal opruis.

Ek breek vry van agter die tralies.

Geagte skool
Gerespekteerde meneer
Vok jou
en moenie laat jou mislukkings jou
op die gat skop as jy by die deur uitloop nie.
Want hierdie "mislukking" ... skop kak hard.

Daar was g'n tyd vir bybelversies nie
, want die brood van lewe was te duur
En wie wil nou regtig wag om ring
As die manne vir jou hoogliedere sing.

Aan die begin was daar niks nie
Maar hyt gepraat met sy hande
En toe was daar lig en oh die gode
Dit was goed! Dit was goed!

Maar hy was aleen in n wereld met als
En almal was sonder naam
, toe hy sy laaste een gee en ek
Deur bloed en been vir hom geskep is.

Dit was goed, dit was goed
En ek huil snot en trane van seer
Maar die appel proe soet
Of jy hom in die hemel of die hel hap...

Jy is die fontein van lewe,
Ek drink van jou en raak dors
Vir meer as net een aand van sterrevolg.

Mag ek dronk raak op jou wyn?
Of is jy my een reeds voor!?

En ek kan.nie kerk toe hol nie
En die Bybel vloek my skel
Want jou lyf voel soos die Hemel
Maar Hy se jy is die Hel.

Mag ek langs jou bed op kniee neersak
En jou hand in myne neem??
Kom ons raak besope...
Genoeg om liefdesliede
vir mekaar te kreun.

More bid ons om vergifnis
En vergeet wat sonde is
Tot die vlees te veel begeer
En die lewenslig so bietjie blus.

Dit is *** die liefde werk,
Dis my lewe dié
Die struikelblok wat my versmoor
Van n vel religie.

Curry Leaf Tree

It must be because
I have not seen a lush curry leaf tree
For the last 6 years
That I always watered
A curry leaf tree
In my mind of minds

Daily it flourishes,
Getting greener and greener

There is no distinction
Between strangers or close ones, Everyone who saw it
Used to take its leaves

It will bow down
In front of those
Who cannot reach the branches,
So that they can snap the twigs again and again

When the smell of curry spreads,
All houses, along with the kids,
Will become strange,
Spreading a lot of happiness
Let them call my darling leaves ‘curry leaves’

Don’t cry, my children


Neem tree**

For the last 6 years,
What is observed with a full heart
Is neem trees
Standing row upon row

Whenver possible,
I will fit into its shade
If no one saw me,
I Give a kiss
You should see the smile
Exposing its light green gum
Then

How many came,
How many went
Feel sad
When I see the detachment of the graying leaves,

“Come if you must,
Stay if you will,
Go if that is what you wish”
Isn’t this what your body language speak
Standing there?

The Whirring of the fan in the dark
As I lay on the cotton sheet
Sleep eluding me, perspiration finding me
This blasted Delhi heat

In the burning orange of the noon
The rickshaw tires play with the dust
And all is silent like a black n white film
It's just screaming in the color of rust

Neem trees, dried leaves
And the buzzing of the evening flies
Time to chase the ice lollies vendor
As the temple bell tolls by

Along comes the night again
Heaving and spewing, choking on fiery stars
Already restless for the next season
Oh why are Delhi winters so far

I am part of many groups
Yet, not part of any
Part of the crowd
Yet, free like a bird
Like the neem tree
Rooted
And its branches sway free

Get it, India head
This is no bed of roses
Poses in prime positions
Are sublime repetitions
Of what has gone
Before

Karma comes knocking
Knowing
Falling flat on your face
Bindis race
First fast then erased
From your forehead
Forever more

Rickshaws run a mockery
Round rubbled ruins
Of modern mishapes
Monarchy's mistakes, perhaps
Perfect pictures of
Predictable
Misadventures

What everyone tells you
Pre plane departure
Setting one belief in front of another
One foot behind
Is what it does
To your stomach
Shaking heads full of
Heavy sighs

Cares to be taken
Clothes to be carried in case
For climactic changes
Of course
What to withstand
Understand
Undertake
When to be undeterred

When to stand your ground
Back down, barter
Bask
Busk your way through town
What to battle over
Where to bathe and how
When to show the colour
Of your mother's money

How to save a dollar
Raise a rupee
Meditate on more that
You could Be
Do the deed
Be caught in times of need
Phone home and find
No-one waiting for your call

All of this and more
You carry on your back
A rucksack full of love and
Missed kisses
But - the greatest part of this is
What no-one tells you -
What it does
To your heart

What you find
When your mind adjusts
And your eyes unwind
And great gusts of understanding blow you free
When you hand over the key
To your list of demands
And give in
To the easy unplanned

Exploring
Imploring looks
Hook your sympathy
Bait you easily at first
The worst
Are always
The kids
Thing is, how could you deny them?

Soon enough
Is enough
“Sister!”
“Look mister, I ain't no fool
And I ain't a millionaire either -
Leave her alone and go home.”
Thing is, how could you feed them all?

You triumph on trains
Blaspheme the buses
The driver's on drugs
Or a suicide trip
You skip rice-based breakfasts
For weeks
Seek out cereals then
Suddenly...you don't

Chinking chai glasses
Chomping on chocolate
A lot
More than most
Coasting roads
Filled with cows
On a scooter scuffed with sand
And stuffed to bursting point

Dogs with holes in
Infecting imaginations
Over masala dosa
Noses signalling distaste
This taste?
Hmm, tamarind - trees?
Try over there
Between the neem and the new banana circle...

Too many memories to mention
There's always one question
When you return to the beginning
Grinning, they ask
How was it?
But how can you say
It was everything
You've never seen
?

India
Get it?
INDIA!!
Get it India
But be warned...
You may never
Get her
Out-ia
Head

Wrote back when I was in 10th class..
I wish I could recall everything but
Here are some of the pieces

A day after the full moon,
time when the flowers bloom,
A beautiful dawn,
It's Monday come on!!!

I went for a ride,
Saw a ******* road side,
Her pony tail white ribbon tide
and a smile,
Which she just can't hide.

Trying to cross the street
With black shoes on her feet
Her mustard outcoat attire,
She a ravish beauty I admire.

One hand on the pocket,
Other holding the bag..
OHH dear my heart just flew like a rocket...
Ohh God please
hold everything with a time lag.

Iemand reikt me een hand
Als ik verstar
verdwijnt de hand opnieuw in de schaduw
Twijfelend blijf ik staan
Ik tast in het duister ..
Niets

Net als ik me omdraai
verschijnt de hand opnieuw
Deze keer neem ik ze zonder aarzelen in de mijne
En als de schaduw wegtrekt
kijk ik recht in twee hemelsblauwe ogen
en wil ik nooit meer loslaten

Some sweet memories of my Village and childhood days :-)

My village, is an Evergreen Heaven, full of singing birds, the crystal clear river with a non-stop flow of water.
A graceful temple of the powerful Goddess, with it attached the sacred Banyan tree. And a beautiful swing by rope for the kids to enjoy their evening.

Men sit chatting under the Banyan tree. Women washing clothes and gossiping near the river side. My village, being a part of God's own country is calm and peaceful for both the old ones and the young ones.

Enchanting festivals happen, specially during summer. The best part of my life is my childhood days in my village. It is blessed by nature with full of greenery on all its sides with paddy fields, coconut,tamarind,mango, neem and the list goes on.

I enjoyed my childhood with my cousins playing Hide and Seek, Lock and Key, Making mud pots which are never allowed to play by the kids nowadays.Those days are filled with pleasure and entertainment.

Competing with the Cuckoo's Coooo making it angry ! Walking on the walls, eating ripe mangoes, climbing on trees..waow ! It was fun :-)

A mischievous chat with Grandma, Grandpa and great Grandma who loved me more than they do themselves.

Making compulsory our afternoon nap, punishing us with his love and care, my Big uncle. He punishes us with his Hand fan or 50 - 100 sit ups holding our ears! But at this moment I realise he did that because he loves us a lot!

Craving to hear songs from the radio and singing along with it, writing it down and learning it by heart :-P

Going for movies with Grandma, it was really a great fun ! Ours was a Joint family system with uncles, aunts,cousins and there was love, understanding, sharing, caring for one another. Having breakfast, lunch and dinner together with the family where there were always laughter and only laughter :-)

Wish all those sweet and golden moments to come back !!!

Bullock carts moving forward
With the music of jingling bells
Women walking like a peahen
Balancing mud pots of water
On their head with a band
Women churning butter from
Milk with the churning rod
Men with their spades to fields
Ready for the ploughing
Boys,with their tool, catapult
Aiming at the juicy mangoes
Little girls running with laughter
To the call of a bangle-seller
Old men sitting in the verandah
Memorising their days of youth
Fruit selling woman calling out loud
Bananas,Apples,Mangoes
Smoke from the chimneys
Like an engine of a train
Red chillies, turmeric and coriander
Spread on sheets in the sunlight
Goats and calves crying out in
Search of their pet homes
Village full of greenery with
Gulmohars, Banyan and Neem
Busy with their daily duties
Happy with no disappointments
The villagers of olden days !

Where i am
Somewhere on solid lithosphere
everybody seems mad,
viewing the world from an empty plate
yesterday and today can never be the same

about ninety percent of the world is confused,
the more you know the less you understand
you have no clue

pray for the mind's eyes
beauty in perspectives
Semi-rainbow Sedatives
Naked band of thieves
Slender neem twigs

when you see the light
live with it
Wherever you are
don't feel mad

BY IWO O. EDWIN

Kom ons wees oppervlakkig
Kom ons verbeel ons dit was niks
, 'n nag vol stampe en stote
dis al , - dis al

Kom ons wees naief
en jonk en dom
, en ... ag ek weet nie
ons leef mos net eenkeer?

Kom ons wees koud en
hard, soos die plaiveisel
en die mure waarteen jy my
vasgedruk het as ons soen!

Kom ons bou vir maande
aan iets en verloor dit
in jou hortende stem
wat soms die sprong
oor die berge kon maak,
maar nou wegkwyn in
kuberstiltes -stiltes -stiltes
waar jou ***** se echo
in die verlede verdwyn.

Waar is jy nou?
Nou dat my are al
lintend- swerwend in
die wind agter jou wapper
en my hart knus in jou
glas bottel le...
nog 'n glas bottel,
was al wat jy werklik wou he.

Kom ons wees verlief
Depressief
Agressief
Neem inisiatief en
vergeet van my...
,want diep binne
het ek jou
nog eintlik lief...
Hello Genisis
Kom ons wees oppervlakkig...

A small neem plant was grown
by an old man in his late eighties
Outside the boundry wall of his house

He looked after  it everyday
He grew some cactus for its safety

Neem plant was growing into a tree
Old man was becoming more elderly

Old man took few leaves every day
To keep himself fit

After few more years
Old man was unable to come down
From first floor to ground floor

One day I saw old man was talking to tree
"Now you are too strong
But I am too weak to walk"

I saw neem tree grew in more height
It increased its branches to reach the railing of old man's house

To my surprise one day
Old man was plucking the leaves
From first floor of his house

Neem tree was showing its gratitude
By offering its leaves to its saviour.

one fine spring morning
sitting in my chair
newspaper
in hand
basking the sun
in front of my eyes
a scene thus run:

a sparrow perched
on nearby neem tree
sailed to my verandah
and sat on the sill,
in front a looking glass
a while she sat still
a little thoughtful
a little perplexed
finally she was
bitterly vexed.

her own image in the glass
she couldn’t tolerate
to beat it with her bill
at the glass she knocked,
so madly she did drill
as if ‘the other’
she would ****.
in doing this
she broke her beak
all over the beak
the blood did spill,
ignorantly her own
she couldn’t bear
mercilessly her own
with her own beak tear.

frequently she visits,
she now understands,
she comes with her company
but I never saw the repeat,
she and her company
seem to have known
the harmony in Nature
to places they have flown.

WE ‘the roof and crown of things’
spill blood of our brothers
some times on 9/11
in US and fly
again in Jaipur and
Bombay high.

How long will go on this ****** trail?
When will the harmony in man prevail?

C. P. Sharma

The bitter neem reminds of those days -  
the day your heart broke
the day you have to leave your family
the day your beloved pet passed away
the day you felt your life purposeless
all those days filled with sadness

The sweet jaggery reminds of those days -
the day of your first kiss
the day you achieved a dream
the day your kid first walked
the day you received the first paycheck
all those days filled with happiness

The spicy chilies reminds of those days -
the day you were criticized
the day you couldn’t find a solution
the day you waited long in queue
the day you were rejected after many attempts
all those days filled with anger

The sour tamarind reminds of those days –
the day you are completely lost
the day your dearest friend betrayed
the day you failed in everything
the day the problems seemed unsolvable
all those days filled with disgust

The pinch of salt reminds of those days –
the day you are left alone
the day you failed an exam
the day you have to speak facing the crowd
the day you felt crisis in life
all those days filled with fear

The tangy mango reminds of those days -
the day when a stranger  helped you
the day you received an thank you note
the day you met a very old friend
the day when a wish suddenly becomes the reality
all those days filled with surprise

Combine all -
the experiences of life in a single dish

Neem mijn hand
wieg mijn hart
Geef me leven
Laten wij niet deel
Als wij vallen
Terwijl verdeeld
Wij mogen nooit
worden herenigd

Take my hand
Cradle my heart
Give me life
Do not let us part
If we fall
while divided
we may never
be reunited

De spelonken van jouw bestaan zijn meer dan alleen diep, mijn lief. Ondoorgrondbaar, niet vindbaar, met zoveel omwegen wegleidend van her hart.
Soms vraag ik me af hoeveel tijd je aan het graven hebt besteed.

Soms ga ik het gevecht aan, neem ik een schep mee naar je toe. Dan delf ik in je bestaan, delf ik naar je hart. Maar dan verleid jij tot een herberekende route of uitweg. Af en toe spring ik in het diepe en vind ik een robijn, maar ook die zal niet lang van mij zijn.

Je hebt gezorgd voor een hele hoop spelonken, vergetelheidsrivieren, bergen en dalen en grotten bovendien.
Meestal wil ik ze doorgronden, maar soms?
Soms hou ook ik het voor gezien.

Het gebeurt dat ik van paling droom.
Ik keer woord na woord,
zie *** de kok zijn lepel plooit, vermoordt
uit woede en de redder, zonder schroom,
in zijn racecar van de radar
vertrekt. Tot ik wakker word en zie
dat mijn koorts op het meetsysteem
duidelijk een strook te ver trekt,
verder dan ik zou willen lezen.
Neem een pil, lip, neem een
libellebil, dan zal je genezen.

Was crossing the road

It is not like crossing anything else

A Trailer
Might partition into pieces
Or a Hummer,
In a second, make one a nonentity
Or a tin can of a vehicle
Take away your hand or leg.

Even if your last wish,
In case you have to die in an automobile crash,
Is that it should be the red lancer car you are very fond of,
Which court will listen?

On the other side of the road, there is a neem tree
Its dark green leaves are visible.
No, cannot see the bitterness,
But it is possible it is.

I have to cross the road.
Then
I have to stand a bit under the green on the other side
Those birds have to run away (no, not fly!)
And come back just the way they went.


What then? It is, after all, the road that was crossed,
Which is something!


While crossing the road, came a Trailer
Whose driver was a Tamilian


A Hummer came,
In which there was a father, his friend,
Mother and two kids

The kid was singing loudly
The friend was thinking about his girl friend

A rickety old tin can of a vehicle  too came
It was full of wine bottles
For the next century

What then?

Trailer was divided into many pieces
Hummer made one a nonentity in a second
The old vehicle took away two hands, one leg, and two ears.

Now the one who looks this way from the other side:
Is it the one who reached the other side,
Or the one who was standing here,
Or the one who crossed the road,
Or the one who has to return?

A silent afternoon
Warm breeze through
my window
Short nap after lunch
Crying of the crows
Swirling of the fan
Neem leaves peeping in
To see me sleeping

dis amper vyf jaar later.

jy drink nog saam my koffie in my bed tydens ons stiptelike afspraak -
op nostalgiese Sondae aande
wanneer die wêreld stilraak,
kort voor die week weer sy stophorlosie
aanpas.

die herinneringe tog só aanskoulik,
maar stééds kan ek myself nie bring om
jou stem te herroep nie!

voor ek jou kan vasgryp, weer saam jou kan lag
óf
my gesig sag teen jou bors kan vasdruk,
verdwyn jy,
en Skuld neem jou plek in tussen die lakens,
klink die koppie teen myne
gee ‘n grynslag
en sluk my heel in.

Ik neem
niet graag afscheid
iemand in mijn hart
blijft daar
voor altijd

Maar jij
zo hard en streng
deed altijd je best
niet te veel te voelen

Jij
sluit je hart
af
alsof het een deur is

ik ben niet meer nodig
dus jij
zonder een woord
verdwijnt
voorgoed

Ini stilte vani nag
Terwyl di krieke sing
Fluister die slang
Dus ju laastes in ju eigene bed
Hy fluister direk na my vrees
Vrees onbeskryfbare vrees
X vul hu my kop di spanning neem
Hu verlang x vanaand vi ju
Soos woestyn na water
X ken my waarheid
X staan op my waarheid
Ma huveel struikelblokke voor da kom
Huveel spanning n gedagtes voor redding
My redder vertrou x op
Tot my laaste

Amen

Was crossing the road
It is not like crossing anything else
A Trailer
Might partition into pieces
Or a Hummer,
In a second, make one a nonentity
Or a tin can of a vehicle
Take away your hand or leg.
Even if your last wish,
In case you have to die in an automobile crash,
Is that it should be the red lancer car you are very fond of,
Which court will listen?
On the other side of the road, there is a neem tree
Its dark green leaves are visible.
No, cannot see the bitterness,
But it is possible it is.

I have to cross the road.
Then
I have to stand a bit under the green on the other side
Those birds have to run away (no, not fly!)
And come back just the way they went.

What then? It is, after all, the road that was crossed,
Which is something!


While crossing the road, came a Trailer
Whose driver was a Tamilian

A Hummer came,
In which there was a father, his friend,
Mother and two kids

The kid was singing loudly
The friend was thinking about his girl friend

A rickety old tin can of a vehicle too came
It was full of wine bottles
For the next century

What then?
Trailer was divided into many pieces
Hummer made one a nonentity in a second
The old vehicle took away two hands, one leg, and two ears.

Now the one who looks this way from the other side:
Is it the one who reached the other side,
Or the one who was standing here,
Or the one who crossed the road,
Or the one who has to return?

Macht der leugen
zonder haar kracht
Macht der fabel
zonder haar pracht
Mocht het zijn
zoals het was
Neem mij mee
en breng mij terug
Terug naar woorden
en haar macht

In my chair near the table
Sitting with my hand to the chin
Holding a blue ink pen
Closing my eyes slowly
Drowning myself into thoughts
Some four lines came out
Poured it on a white paper
Eyes closed and back to thoughts
A hullabaloo woke me up
Blue ink sprinkled on my words
Few dry neem leaves on the table
Distracted by some chittering
It was the mischievous but cute
The three lined little Squirrel !

encoding sounds with the 26, will never be exact, nor worth deciphering if previously unheard, but it will be more than what western society currently offers with a passive gesture of thinking itself lacking criticism or thereby critical attachment shoving it elsewhere, this grand democratic export: think oneself utopian by shoving one's fakes into other places and return back to oneself to digest a regurgitation.

shree nal sta-ug nah-nug
                   keelm-neem nadul
am me kuz dool bagul
                 undumi shee bagū.

nine, for mortal men, to whom to die.*

doo nikt kań narkań,
hoo me ni shoo... ah sheel,
borozoomish ****?

It was a mixture of climates
Drizzling with a gentle breeze
Of medicinal Neem leaves
Near my window
In between peeps the sun
To compromise with the rain
Crows building nests
With the falling twigs of trees
Foxes getting married
That was a telling of oldies
Enjoying the friendship of
The rain and the sun
Feeling lucky to see them together !