Brain Pain

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Nourished and caressed his blood cells,

The tropical Sun’s ordeal,

From the Ganges, humid winds and moist spells,

His body, a mirror to his years,

While post-school, ceased ticking his brain,

At the epicenter of his central nervous system,

Evolved a tumor out of his skull’s membrane,

Only perpetual childhood now to nurture,

Cancelled were all his bookings to a manly future,

Cherish every second was what the docs prescribed,

Now he could be gone any moment, medication surrendered,

Thereafter, his parents gifted him a young bride,

The child locked in a man’s shell had to hear wedding bells,

Chucked out of his ancestral house, deserted to die,

He smiles in a squat on the floor of a mental facility,

Chuckles innocently, “I miss Mom, she used to play with me, sleep by my side,

I miss Dad; he saved me every night by sleeping with my angry wife”

Debaroon’013

(A Salute to sapiens that surround us…)

 

 

Image credits:

http://www.kosovo.net/hororhos2.html)

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Was Under Repairs- The Verse Factory

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Apathy stains wore its equipment,

Corrosion from gales of compromise had it dysfunctional,

Cylinders of creative lubricant dangled empty,

Staggering under debts of the womb,

Worst fears of its crafty artisans turned true,

None could make it to work,

For needles of mediocrity were scattered bare,

Flooding roads of my town, pointed everywhere,

With lamed logistics, a hungry nation to scare,

A stagnant fleet of trucks, dusty with lethal punctures,

Maintenance craved every inch of its infrastructure,

Servicing had been the need of the hour,

Engineers blocked the exit, while to mend forced in entry,

Barred the ailing entrepreneur from notifying,

“Under Repairs – The Verse Factory…”

Debaroon’013

(Sincere and Heartfelt Apologies to all my beloved and precious readers for being away…

For this pothead, rehabilitation was the surprise gift of this kind society.

With my return, awaits you some white-eyed poetry…

 

 

Image credits: http://pretoria.olx.co.za )

Eid Mubarak (Happy Eid) !

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Minarets stood like lighthouses over the sea of taqiyahs*,

Lent out was a gigantic shade for the sons of Allah,

As if, the Sun bowed along with a million bows,

On speakers Holy prayers rolled, kissed the skies,

Trickled down the Masjid stairs, sank into the atmosphere,

Smiles in piles, greetings and hugs followed,

Jingled bangles, atar heavy the air, rang laughter galore,

Kebabs, sweets, jewelry and clothes,

Shops ran along the road like the never ending shore…

Deb’013

(On Id-ul-Zuha, from the Jama Masjid, New Delhi, India , October 16, 2013)

* taqiyah – is a short, rounded cap worn by Muslims, across the world to emulate Muhammad. It is a must for men to wear them while offering prayers.

 

 

Image Credits:

http://stunningindiatourmoments.wordpress.com

http://ibnlive.in.com

http://blogs.wsj.com

Words of Clay – “Gardener of Beauty”

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From His prison of aesthetics, can you grant me liberty?

From that hypnotic trance of His artistry, can you set me free?

Will I ever be able to alter my duty?

For at the celestial factory,

He sculpted me himself for sheer exclusivity,

To serve my years in flesh till the dusk of eternity,

As a zealous Gardener of Beauty…

Deb’013

Artist : Gauri Sakhuja

Words of Clay” is a poetic journey through the creations of Gauri Sakhuja, a young and talented Indian sculptor from her latest solo exhibition at Triveni Kala Sangam, New Delhi, India.

The journey ends with this post…

Thank You! readers for all your appreciation, inspiration and support. 

 

 

For more on the artist, visit : https://www.facebook.com/gauri.sakhuja/about

Words of Clay – “Be my King”

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Be my King this life,

I shall uproot that seedling of ego,

Shoo away from within my emotions of strife,

Into my ears, your weakness when they blow,

I shall wag it lame, bark it a hoax,

For in the game of  the wise,

The one in checks, without the dice,

Both, the King and his Pawn are packed back into the same box…

Deb’013

Artist : Gauri Sakhuja

Words of Clay” is a poetic journey through the creations of Gauri Sakhuja, a young and talented Indian sculptor from her latest solo exhibition at Triveni Kala Sangam, New Delhi, India.

 

For more on the artist, visit : https://www.facebook.com/gauri.sakhuja/about

Words of Clay – “Danced the Frogs…”

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Touched down heavy those clouds dark,

Swelled those droplets Divine,

Beams rolled roaring across the skies,

Stray dogs did no more bark,

Tied helpless, mooed cows from the shed,

Grunted wet that homeless swine,

Visible the pond, swayed away the fog,

Celebrated therein, the tailless amphibian clan,

To tunes of the whistling tempest,

Chuckles of the swaying trees shy,

The hymn of the peacock, jingles of the hopping fish,

Beats of the thunder high,

Danced, Danced the Frogs…

Deb’013

Artist : Gauri Sakhuja

Words of Clay” is a poetic journey through the creations of Gauri Sakhuja, a young and talented Indian sculptor from her latest solo exhibition at Triveni Kala Sangam, New Delhi, India.

 

For more on the artist, visit : https://www.facebook.com/gauri.sakhuja/about

Words of Clay – ” Living Blue, Living True”

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Vulnerable, much envied resides the Buddha within,

Inner peace is no more free, a price seeps in,

Yet the blue man continues to live it true,

Crouching under his marble umbrella Trojan,

His need for protection pinches him human,

Humbles him his mortality to respect Nature’s curfew,

Not a stain of compromise could taint his virtues,

Confident in a smile! The toughest of climes pass away, too…

Deb’013

Artist : Gauri Sakhuja

Words of Clay” is a poetic journey through the creations of Gauri Sakhuja, a young and talented Indian sculptor from her latest solo exhibition at Triveni Kala Sangam, New Delhi, India.

 

For more on the artist, visit : https://www.facebook.com/gauri.sakhuja/info

We’ll lose the Magician

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Lies dusty his crown,

Locked tidy in his closet, his golden gown,

The sorcerer is withering away, simple logic,

Assign a magician, tasks that require no magic,

Then, watch him self-destruct,

For there simply can be nothing more tragic,

Sans, the stage, the jeering crowd,

The wide-mouthed claps, hoots and the cheers,

Life slowly blurs in the rear,

The end’s then too hard to resist,

Sheer futility devours his fear,

For a final glimpse, he draws life’s bowl near,

Finds dried up and gone are those last drops of purpose,

No miracles in store, he re-assured clear,

Empty white shines porcelain,

Now he knows, he’s breathing in vain,

Untraceable now, his prime reason to exist…

Debaroon’2013

 

 

Image Credit : http://www.tripadvisor.com

Personal Diaries – ‘Evanescent Senses’

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My senses are pampered they say,

Or, maybe they label it that way,

Yes, they’ve been loyal slaves to the harsh Mistress of Aesthetics,

While, Mediocrity’s soothing Inamorata has been forever at bay,

Towards risky pathways to fame,

They disobediently sway,

Sucked in deep and deeper into quicksands of creativity,

That’s how they would perpetually want to stay,

Couldn’t tame them my deadliest reality,

From lush green lawns of mechanical apathy, and,

Fertilized with compromise, greener pastures,

They’ve always craved the quickest goodbyes,

Lightning departures…

Debaroon’2013

 

 

Image Credit: http://u0s7al00.deviantart.com

Dragon’s Inn

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Welcome to the Dragon’s Inn,

Standing shady, luring sins,

A villainous desire draws you in,

A dip into comfort lethally seductive,

Your surrender to a deeper sink seems compulsive,

Into those dingy lanes, you’ve to report,

And, then time’s lost gazing the Red Fort,

Every morning, you try stroking out brave,

Departure is then only what you crave,

You beg futile to step out clean,

Now, out of your hands, life’s quietly slipping out, unseen,

Will devour you slow, scrub out all your sheen,

The ‘HI’ is yours, while the ‘GOODBYE’ is his,

There’s no looking back now,

Once in the grip of Delhi’s Djinn,

You gotta pay up for your share of Bliss…

Debaroon’2013

(As felt by an outstanding student of the Liberal Arts from a Prestigious American University.

A step into the Dragon’s Inn and now Delhi’s Djinn has her. She resides on the streets of Paharganj Delhi, selling herself to almost anyone and everyone, for a mere Fix.)

 

 

 

Image Credit : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_hCVjreYp1E