Election Poems

That’s it. I am never ever, ever, ever going out Ever again! Never. Why am I so awkward? Oh god everyone is laughing! Why me? A scarlet shade of shame If I cover my cheeks they’ll know I’m blushing. If

The Tainted that makes me abhor, The Torn I cringe at The Sick whom I repugn ,The felon I condemn The sinister I ward off, The corrupt I agonize Are the souls of the ones , Oh surprise! I give

I’ll give ya till three ta renounce your frightful winning spree to bow out gracefully re: signing your fate to trumpeting ya tail feathers prithee what constitutes your bush whacking foreign policies tomb me equals diddle lee squat and foreign

When the loud trumpets lie And the slithering mist usher our souls’ demise A chameleon claims the eagle flag as his right Dismissing us all like flies This Caesar is no savior His arrogance betrays his hateful designs We remember

Overturned, years of stasis Paralysis by mental blockade A political metamorphosis. Afoot at the general election; Vengeance of the Manifesto. The interregnum, the entrenched vote Tranches appear, on Revised Register Deceased coded, in numbers resurrect. Beyond the grave, claim their

only the half-truths engage the nightfall the thing of dawn asked to wait in pouring blows sponsored by sin of brutal torture burning the genitals pushing sand in mouth blood rimmed stool I become you sit on eat your dinner

At Sarnath the deer park where Gautama the Buddha first taught the dharma FROM THE HEART –A BHIKSHU’S SUPPLICATION Enlightened lord your wisdom is our knowledge , sufficient is that knowledge to ensure our covenant with wisdom in its turn

Divide & rule is a common act in our nations, They say politics is a dirt game, though every day we experience politics, Allocation of resources been major politics, It’s a horrifying reality but we have politicians & voters, Lisa

By mid month I won’t even tell them that this is is last month’s issue The election calendar has not changed since then Prioritize our distribution with a few hundred a couple hundred more to develop the readership on the

The grey-haired die of hunger, the children’s’ store full of food, While still breasting, death snatches her mom, She faces the wrath of her step-mother, what crime is she paying for? While still nurturing her infant, the shadow snatches her

He comes with a bowl of courtesy and begs you to to fill the Bowl with your valuable vote He promises moon and treats you like God You feel special for his flattering words Come the D-day to vote in

The Butterfly has awoken And rightfully emerged from his cocoon What makes it so beautiful is Not the wings or image Of itself But the beauty of its flawlessness Mindset in this breath Taking shattering world It already being so

Being a mother… That path that is sometimes taken, that path that sometimes reaches you, and that you, even as a companion, always walks. That road full of efforts of pains and struggles but pregnant with joys, with teachings. That

A look past the glass I can see my past Now freed from the disbelieve One can start to relive Though what can I gain? Still I am in pain Maybe with just a wish I’d change my accomplished dish

To the light you are not awake And to the night you do not belong Come Oh’ my Love, let’s walk in twilight, And find a place that hides our heart, Away from the rumble of the world And chaos

Day comes and night follows Night goes and day comes Hours turn into days, days into months Every day that goes by Increases our age by days, months and years. From babies, we grow into young kids Then teens, followed

May there be mercy this day of mourning. Fly flags half-mast for human rights’ regress. The “forgotten” poor, white male minority are distressed by their societal mortality. Clinging to obsolete “common” privilege: sexism, lying, and xenophobic “wisdom”. They are what

Standing on a sand island I was looking at the landscape of the aura of a lobbied avatar. The chill was spreading on the river unfazed. The sassafras had a logistics network to penetrate in the oysters, becoming grayish white

On the transient cage-like throne Amidst columns of arms and might, The regalia holds the unwieldy sceptre….. Lust and lavishness drag him to loot Fiefdoms torn and patched; Fear drives him to frighten others The ‘should be patriarchal arms’ Instead

All those years I underwent orthodontic care for naught cuz profound gum recession and bone dissolution found me fraught with an angst riddled necessity whence dentures bought or will soon bring relief, where financial cost to me = aught. though

But there is an anti-particle to wvery particle in this universe” The physics teacher quoted in class twelfth “Ally with real life” he said, And a life lesson was learnt that heyday. “to every single ‘event’ there is an ‘anti

It was my ambition to be a poet My conscious mind demanded of me To write more and more But the unconscious mind warned Not to listen to the conscious mind The conflict between them I kept aside To me,

When honeycomb started dripping, he stopped eating and climbed a sand dune for the last journey.Pall-bearers were ready for blunt futurism ceding to a deliberate defeat. Hunger was his turbulent empire, resting his hands on the shoulders of rocked time

An Ode to Sausages I cannot get my email messages I sit here eating mash and sausages I waited for my lunch to come and now it’s done and in my tum. This pub is by a lake with boats

Sign of what once may be left Breath taken deeply denial of death Presence of grace to have a place to hide As family leaves fall temperatures will rise Accepting the passing of a goodbye For moments of inscription Left

Choices are a part Of voices from the heart. Without inner voice You have no choice. It is all a matter of choice How we use our voice. Back your choice With a strong voice. I made my choice Paying

I’ve shared more than blame These harpies find me Wandering cargo ships with dagger-eyed cheeks and charm A gold-fleeced buffalo Mama said don’t engage But I can’t short them when they’ve come so far for someone not looking to be

I believe that I can be everything. Dreamer, achiever, the leader. Everything. Son of many nations. Every king. All praise to the creator. Every queen. I’m on mission sent here to tell you. Don’t listen to the system that failed

There were two paths it was up to me to choose, The path full of happiness or the path with tears and sorrow, I was alone, very alone at the place which was unknown. No one was there to support

Flipping pages inhaling words Like open arms and fluttering birds. A clay pot, a blue sky. Paddy fields passing by. Just touch each word, it comes to life With laughter, anger, pleasure and strife I travel with people living in

A marble calm under the shaky gaze was parsing the human pain. I would lift the calculated grief from folded earth. You feel badly bruised and racial war becomes anathema. Past the age eyesight dwindles, cannot identify the faces of

The unspoken desires, The far away dreams, The actual dilemmas, The plans on the streets, The turning arounds’ and wishing bys The genuine laughters and the passing cries. To the road paved down And the ones not taken, The smiling

it happens now and then a mother begs for her child and bleeds inside down there in the abyss in dirt and smoke you say it is ugly and turn your eyes to the Indian rollers in flight showing the

Joined by the funeral, we sit down, under the blue sky, fire watching, sequentialling the processions. Ultimately one by one they come, to dust, hands turned down. After close of the rainbow there is an explosion and a transition censored

When mired in jadedness Or weary of Truth, I sleep babe-like in your nakedness, O bosom pal of my youth; The nature of mothers in you Suckling my sleep! Or when dark empires above Shut my mind, I star-and-moon sketch

Sometimes, it looks beautiful and loving, Our thoughtless acts and thirst of beauty, Make much harm to the sweet beloved, We ultimately stop the outburst of beauty. Making fairy doors in the stems of trees, Looks beautiful and charms exploiting,

Nature …God’s eternal artisan knows not the language of consistency… every second it… sketches …the grace of a flying seagull etches …the silence of the dark moon eclipsed by the cotton clouds paints ….the vibrancy of the morning sun on

The incessant lapping of ripples, Sounds of waves that swell and fade, Mask all the murmurs and whispers Of amblers on the moonlit promenade. The hovering darkness of the night, Ignored by the roaring sea outright, Rising and falling to

Time: eternal mystery is wrapped around our souls; it steals the bloom from rose-bud cheeks, matures the lambs and foals. It ages wine and feels sublime parcelled in anticipation, it emancipates, illuminates, frees some shackled nations. Time is kind and

I find something beautifully heartbreaking about the sound of a string quartet playing in a minor key. As the first bow glides across the strings my heart moves in ways unknown to me. I close my eyes and imagine I

I seek a guide I seek a moment I seek an event I seek the will to live again I seek the courage to love again I seek to not regret I seek to write out of joy I seek