Cemetery – by cyclopseven

in the burial ground
i see the dead speaks
through the dance of wild grass
swept by soothing wind
In noiseless whisper.

harmless there they remain
at peace
with nature.

i crave that.

dreadful scene – by cyclopseven

freaking fear
of childhood tears
still haunts the many lives in the community,
taunting sound of killer bombs
still rails over their head,
and in the dream
the fire burns them to powerless creed.
violation of unwritten rights
penetrates deep into their fright
darkness lights throughout generations
many suffers the outrageous immolation
of the rights to dignified life.
life, a neighbour so close
still a distant from their breath,
as death became a neighbour so close
breathing chokes them to dreadful realities.
children write not what’s right
chalks and blackboard piled underneath rubbles of mortar
teachers and parents speaks of freedom
a language forgotten by many
buried forever with their martyrs.

god BLESS.
Will HE?

kundalini by cyclopseven

in slow spiraling motion
penetrating the knots
absolving the sins
parading bliss at the forefront
the liberator rises within
expanding consciousness
touching the ultimate
soul of souls
the divine guide
and
a universe become
of an individual
he is liberated.

miracles by cyclopseven

a sudden appearance
of unexpected matters
nor a disappearance bi-location
is a miracle.

sensible tolerance
with empathic opinion?
…….nay.

only care giving love
that grows from soul with soothing bliss
that hugs without expectations
is a miracle.

degradation by cyclopseven

shadows of piety in the middle of crying flees from famine
falls on the sands of desert
blackening the golden shine of the sand.
worldwide efforts sweep across continents
to wipe hungers of million stomachs
with liquid flour that comes with watery nutrients
and poured on stretched palms.

with immediate response they gulp the tasteless fill
contented between discord and necessities.

for a survival of generations to come
they must not stop breathing their hopes
to invade the invaders and continue their survival;

with a paltry of what’s given
a throw into beggar’s bowl gives unparallel attraction
a sign of divisions – micro cracks are widening
between man of different colors and faith
leaving dogs and cats with good meals taken care of
but not mankind.

desires by cyclopseven

if i shut my eyes
will my desires be blind?
if i close my mouth
will my desires be dumb?
if i refuse to listen
will my desires be deaf?
if i refrain to touch
will my desires become numb?
if i stop my breathes
will my desires be dead?
If I stop thinking
Will my desires be divine?
If I am dead
Will my desires remain alive?

My lord
What a predicament!!
Unanswered questions
Amidst questions answered.

revenge by cyclopseven

imbecile thoughts
rushes wild
feeding the senses
maddening the soul.
vultures man become
in anticipation of revenge
stressful he remain
depressive - his life
he kills himself alive
before others die in his mind
in dead he still carries
the hateful revenge,
avenger!!

war by cyclopseven

bloody war oozing compassion out
fighting a fight for justice invisible
borderless humanity a cry far from reality
bordered and cramped the ‘thoughts’ exist.
a man struggles a journey he crawls
though he appears walking
his wooden limbs carries him moving.

the war squeezed the heart out
no fear no love
nothing to care but liberation
rest but pickles.
in the absence of fear
and unknown bravery surge
fighting bullets in return of blood
a group marching in bloody violence.
whom to blame and whom to cry shame
nobody knows where and how it begins
but all are here for tremendous battle play
terrorism?
defense?
peace?

reasons are obscured
but the reality is painful
as blood flows a river made
in red the world painted great.

forgotten masses - by cyclopseven

rupturing wail of forgotten souls
ripping through the voices of poors
pangs of hunger tones their language
they shout and shout till dumb they become
and their language falls on hearing impaired.
their rights they know have gone
but please they beg
“spare us our souls”.

torching heat of fire burning
heating but vessels of blank food
a scoop just to stuff shouting stomach
but for strength, nothing but blank food.
father works the toil for money scarcely enough
mother worries the mind how to feed the young ones
children runs mixing the mud with play
knowing something for them surely be in store
to kill the hunger, they hardly worry of.

life goes everyday
in worries they breath their hope
“will the Lord, show us a way
to escape the suffering that prey”
not a word from Him
not even a silent nod
He hears but the slum knows not whether He listens.

the trail the poor step on glitters in the heat of noon
of material good in quality the road made of
for the rich man to drive his posh wheelers steady
without bumps.
the poor walks and cycles
along the same trail daily
all their thoughts they ask one thing
“sirs in highest ranking
spare the money used for the trail glitters
and give us a life that shine
for the road can remain a trail without glitter
and the rich, its ok let them go on bumpy drive
in air condition they sleep better - off the bumps
less the chauffer wake them up
and point at the flood ahead.

then the rich and poor
we travel together holding hands
wading the flood water;
its funny to think
finally we are united in flood water.
“God gracious, let there be uniting flood every seconds”
Pray the slum dwellers in devotion.

self - by cyclopseven

immensely subtler than the wind
that whispers hope;
unseen it remain powerful
to rule and build
to conquer and destroy;
none have seen yet we are all but that
powerfully subtler it remain
seeing without being seen
speaking without being spoken
listening without being listened to
breathing even beyond dead
subtlety of Self
but a second away from us;
abandoned mercilessly
we bury our own bodies
in thousand death we remain zombies

though we breath we remain dead
to the subtlety of the Self.

the way is far - by cyclopseven

the way is far
hidden mesmerized by gold
mankind partying gaily
in affairs daily they marvel
praising each, forgetting the path.
nodding drunkards,
lie traders fill the gaps of life,
drugged and dragged
mankind wallow in happy woes,
painful pinches are pleasant twists
when alcohol leaks into life’s veins.

whose beauty painted well
on macaws and peacock,
whose strength placed right
on elephants and whales,
whose mysteries woven intricately
across the nature’s veins,
Why in man, Oh My Lord
You choose to remain misty?

Kalai - A Trip to Blue Lagoon !!

Once in a blue moon....
I get the boon ...
to relax, laugh and be happy !!
It occurred on a Full moon...
bringing happiness with a chirpy tune !!
Seconds full of mirth and joy
made everyone dance and enjoy !!
Thinking aloud my cells woke up
and made my spirits ride high !!
Up in the sky is the rising full moon
Wishing me the brightest day ahead !!
Softly ushered in the evening breeze
taking me to a day of trance !!
Ya, it is once again a day of romance...
that made me blush by your glance !!

incense

sweet smelling incense
a friend of mind
always will remain mine
sweet as ever in smell
tie the thoughts in a strand
that stills the mind
into meditation.