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 )

Breathless Love…

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Passion cried the Sitar,

Duped them the Morning Star,

Misbehaved their tiny boat, in tosses scaled the river,

No oars, no boatman, no direction to bother,

While the monsoon moaned to its wettest climax,

Tucked and tied inside, they sat glued to each other,

Lashed, spanked and drenched them, the water,

Deaf to thunder bolts echoing the tidal grove,

Unfazed, entangled in arms, they challenged Nature,

Till the clouds cleared with an embarrassed Sun’s signature,

Deserted on the backwaters of Kerala,

Many a breath, then breathless they made Love…

Deb’013

 

 

Image Credit: http://paradise-kerala.com

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 – “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

An Emotion, Naked!

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For Heaven’s sake, I’m eating,

I howled at her,

Sin felt, she stepped back,

In a flash! Drew away those arms bony that pled,

I’d never heard that voice of mine before,

I’d seen people scoff the same,

Assumed then, these moments weren’t mine,

They’d always been cast out of my lore,

Angry I’d then been, caught off shore,

Till seconds away,

I met this stranger self of mine,

Bit me her pain, choked me that burger bite,

Freaked me out that freaking reality,

Irritation shot across, my emotion’s disguise,

Her life slithering down the drain,

Only I could munch and fill to a smile,

Sweat kissed I gasped for breath,

While the Sun missed no chance punishing her insane,

On her shoulder, that naked baby,

Maybe slumber ridden, may be dead,

Stony did it lie… Enough!

A spark, and my count at work soothed dry my crying brain,

Out of breath then my emotions naked,

Too tough on a tougher day on this poor swine,

Dipped often in strains of haze and wine,

Soon wiped clear, formatted it all seemed till late evening,

For then took over Life…

Debaroon’013

 

 

Image Credit : http://www.flickr.com/photos/40816499@N00/3583213565/

Personal Diaries – ‘Wins the Hare’

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Hungry flowers are blooming everywhere,

Blind seedlings are mushrooming here and there,

Hues of helplessness are painting this part of the sphere,

The superior has little voice,

Starving secured on deeds right,

In its shell, awaiting the moment like the tortoise,

Sky high waves of ignorance are abundant in sight

Lashing dry sands of simplicity, wet,

Pace-less on highways, a peekaboo has it trembling in fear,

While, the inferior toils swift in sweat,

Wide-eyed it shines above ones, near and dear,

Empty sacks of wisdom are concealed crystal clear,

Hips and hops, some smart talks, hollow confidence dear,

Fake it to survive, knows the sharp-eared Hare…

Debaroon’2013

 

 

Image Credit: http://fineartamerica.com/

SinRains

DE11_PG2_4-COL_LIG_1050209g

 

 

 

 

 

 

The sky screamed Sunless,

Broke loose crashed, gone unbearable,

Seeds of her follies, her tangles under the table,

Her moments with June – moist stress,

In howls, her man summoned menace,

Ravaged the land then, children of Eros,

Danced casanova, those faithless droplets,

Washed away, into the drain gurgled down her character,

Weighed down, impossible another slithery escape,

Cries unattended, septic now this disaster,

She bears his lashes silent, he scorns aloud in pain,

Panting a wet blue to a dim gray disdain,

Trickles to the ground, love’s last button,

She is running out of her sailing cotton,

Panic-stricken, slipping out naked, her disgrace…

Debaroon’2013

 

 

 

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