Egalitarianism Poems

It’s time to grow like wild grass With no spot of terrain parched. Time to unlearn the old bigotry. Time to let love burst outwards Through the fissures in the wall Permeating its hues into all lives. Time to shed

I want to be free like music. Free like soft tones, melodies, voices, and patterns pulsating together. I want to wake up freed by music in mornings when the mind is slowly, steadily, waking up. I want to be free

I watched her as she swam across the lagoon And her smile much brighter than the moon. The clam breeze in the air whispered gently, As if a marching band played a loving tune. I was quickly invited into the

Days are crisp, nights chilled. A lake of fluid fire, under the clouds, prepares for a virgin assault. I do not thaw the frozen hurts, respect the disguise of the old lover. Hearing my own voice from a distance? I

The night was never caught so clear Each star was cast so crystalline, So much wrapped in black velvet shade Like moments clad in silken sheen, And evenings’ artists drew their pictures With their quill dipped in lunar ink With

Under the vast canopy Of spotless blue sky With snow-capped hills as neighbours Rests the cute cottage blissfully In the midst of blooming flowers Far from the madding crowd Far from din and bustle Far from smoggy air space And

Rains have made me wet by now Turning dark as the sky reflects Every droplet I take within myself Thirsty of love and oneness When will mankind awaken Not to separate me by boundaries Labeling me and identifying me For

Rushing Blue into the arms of Red, Overwhelm Robin, To render melody, In tandem with the notes of cowbells, With the beat of ripples rolling down the stream, Whispers the wind, into the beings, Waking them from deep slumber, Urging

Like rains in spring they came to us A blessing they were to us Like extra-terrestrials we treated them Not knowing that all they wanted was to help We always turned our backs on them Our right hand they were

Look how the sun rises and sets, Earth becomes heaven where man lives; It is man who gets and forgets; Only Allah gives and forgives. Roses bloom and nightingales sing, Rivers run, their waves fall and rise; Allah gets pleasure

People are more precious than things you own. Should not be picked up ‘n put down like a telephone. They can be emotionally fragile, so handle with care, don’t cast them off, ignore As a lost cause or beyond repair.

Blessed is that man Or that man is Wise. Who doesn’t take advice. Who doesn’t give advice. Blessed is that man Or that man is Wise Who doesn’t live to repine. Who doesn’t judge, criticise. Blessed is that man Or

They lie about my looks, That I have horns, an ugly face, scary, That my haven is ever burning screams, burnt flesh, Yuck! I’m beautiful, handsome, all you will ever want, If its wealth, who can outweigh me? Luxurious houses,

Truly, this life is not worth living, the joy of death is privacy in the casket. What can mortal life render to the living other than; short-lived joy and protracted tumults in it’s basket of despair. What can out-live a

How soon Persephone would say goodbye, And leave her mantle, white upon the ground? My heart seeks not to know, nor reasons why, But makes the most while she is still around; How soon will friendly stars all disappear, When

Paradoxical Shakedown Escape On Planet Earth The Monkeys That You Left Here Have Bled And Given Birth Inter-species Mating Has Fashioned Them With Wings And Now There Flying High Above This Haunted Gallery The Oceans Are Now Rising California’s Gone

The sea is filled with water With high and low tides When we go near it We feel that we are in paradise. The warmth of the sand touching the feet The feel of the breeze with a welcoming greet

We’ve come full circle; then and now Moves that cost us dearly in lives and money History haunts; images sworn never to be repeated Arrogance, revenge, power: players in this cosmic tragedy Characters, movie-like, camouflage reality, pretend it was the

Like clouds scurrying from the sun- they dawn love to come forth. In them lies a world meant to be free- from all inhibitions for a feat! They are the tambour- that drives away all that is goth. Their waves

They’ve often asked if I was restricted by a religion, But “I just can’t eat” had always been my sermon. However, I was fascinated by how they made it And why their tongues galloped as they tasted. So I took

When things happen the way we do not want them to, especially when we have alternative ways for a better result, a few of us tend to go against the present time with our own ideology. A few stand up

My friend the Wind- is a lady who changes- Personas with every dress! You can hear her voice- go up and down with- every lapel and pleat! Chagrined about her coif- she turns into a dust devil. Ginned again with

Have you seen a dream crumble, I just did Not one sound it made, nor a mercy bid Silently and softly it shed its tears Finally unbounded from all its fears Some piercing pain I felt Something perishing and foul

The ants are at the banana in advance of the beneficence of the sun a brown on brown crime as three tribes have extended hungry mandible-tipped spears to carry back the rich flesh within the maws of their concrete oases

The bygone art, a dead shrine; Thou not dead, thou live… shall live By art of carve that plays on and will it play Forever, timeless, in century’s lap The beauty, thou struck me a year back: So calm, so

Ready to dismember the red geraniums rains had no mercy. Thunder did not show any preference and hails had felled the pride of tall grass. Denuded, the hungry man walked towards liberty. Moral tapestry in scape after scape cried, the

The Giant Banyan Tree in the country-side, Bunches of thick ropes hanging downward, Full of dark green leaves.Bats hanging from, Its branches with open wings.This ancient Banyan Tree has seen many ups and downs. Our grandmother’s village is calm and

like ether, permeating all space mesmerizing, he walked away, head of his enemy in his hand, like a trophy? frighteningly orangish a decapitated body shudders. The holy war demands its price of a joke. The face of red and blue.

I love you like the glow of a rising Sun That spreads its light everywhere I love you like the tear drop on my face That reminds me how tough I am I love you like the aroma of coffee

Winter fogs are delving over city Like birds of prey with breathless cold Each drop moistens your lips Passing shivering kisses like beloved. The last afternoon sun that brought comforting warm Meekly knocking at the door of grey sky, Her

Remorse it is consuming me My integrity My peace I look into the mirror Evading my eyes For I see the shadow Of the remorse I converse With you I see it Mirrored in you The discomfort I sense Emanating

Open your eyes, Just a simple girl, from what you see But is she as simple as she seems? She seems so normal, not much different But you don’t know what runs through her mind Because you are plain and

Emotions are what fuel us What fill us to our core. They are the defining elements in our deepest thoughts. That fist you slammed against a wall? Anger. The tears you cried over a heartbreak? Sadness, pain. The curses you

And accompany me To a place where you always wanted to be The aches, the heart-breaks, the constant high and low Mechanical existence, your mind is stuck in flow Let’s drink the magic potion, and sleep in utmost rest Give

unhinged i wake tying ribbon around the tree of amnesia, the butterfly startles, despairs the blue of humility, all i wanted was the silence of ceremony to greet the prosperity of death in valley of graves, the hungry hyenas appreciating

God said in my absence the angel on earth is you, Filled your heart with love and unfailing patience too! The sacrifices you have made, those can never be repaid! Right from the womb till our last moment, You give

When I teach Bailey to sail, that will be the cat’s meow Now this is the stern, and that is the bow Here is the tiller, makes her turn, helps to steer And when she sees how it works, she

O my friend Jerry, You are a sweet cherry. You have perfected your life, After a great great strife. You have maintained self discipline, Marking your life neat and clean. As a poet I can understand you, For you are

It is the darkest hour of the night, and I am waiting for dawn. To see the pink of the sky, and the misty morn. The night looks beautiful, in it’s dark. It brings glory and repute to the morning

The ghosts of winters past plague my mind with a blissful memory of the first coquettish look and the first breath of her omniscient essence The failure of one’s duty by thine own hand is the blade that cuts the