When death comes to receive my flesh

Will that death bell give me options?

 

Will I know how to make that choice?

Central time will be practical, least disruptive

Pacific time will reflect eagerness, a rushed closure

Eastern time could be interesting, night falling sooner

Indian standard time is a wise idea, map my death to my birth

 

When death comes to receive my flesh

Will my angel sing me a song?

Will I know which song will be best for the journey?

Spiritual beats may be ideal to usher in the truth

Romantic songs will be a good reminder of evenings at home

Jingles may lighten up the atmosphere, helpful for shocked children

Lullaby’s are universally liked, and should be a good way to be out to rest

 

When death comes to receive my flesh

Will the death wish allow me to pick company?

Will I know who I want to spend the rest of my soul with?

The many who went without permission and sulking still

Them which drifted away too soon and are relishing the light

Those that went with a full life and are happy in their new place

Few that served as catalysts for learning and continue as students

 

When death comes to receive my flesh

Remind me to ask him to take my soul too

I think silence will be a good change for both

 

NaPoWriMo 2018

my own

Narrow Road Magazine April 2019

Sharing is a maze

You are either in or out

There is no in between

 

You may choose to be a hermit

Sharing from and with the universe

There is no out once you have signed up

 

You can agree to be a lover

Sharing possibilities of adoration 

There is no fitful sharing of love

 

You can commit to being a soldier

Sharing death on grieving knees in battlefields 

There is no looking away from that collective destiny

 

You can live the sibling dream

Sharing ice cream, insecurities, jokes

There is no trading of memories in exchange for personal space

 

You may like to be religious 

Sharing the vastness with those that see only boundaries

There is no excuse for ignoring the gift of thanks

 

You can champion voices

Sharing words in infinite passages of speech

There is no reason for fear of questioning

 

Sharing has just one rule

The rule of not being meek

Sharing is a participative sport

The brilliance of its medals

Is in its essential nature 

 

Sharing is a map that is marked by 

• bodies 
• speech
• freedom
• space
• questions
• education
• books
• civilizations 
• Allah, Jesus, Buddha, Ram

I stepped into the front of the confessional

face red and shaking hands, frail

 

abandoning guilt;trying to balance

changing future with my formidable past

 

the bloody rush of a reckoning

with myself, ran through my veins

 

life in bookmark, still hesitatingly

halted at the page of eviction

 

their lingering departure, my brothers

I stood small, shrinking into the same spot since

 

today, I wish to let myself loose

from my villains, braving dignity

 

my placental guilt, haunting

my devil, of ignorance it was born

 

their homecoming after 13 yrs, the pandavas

ended my imprisonment with my beasts

 

the hubris, an illusion evaded my life

ready now, I wish to escape my dungeons

 

I walk to the confessional stand

so I can submit to my failures

 

I gambled away lives, blinded

by history, which favored winners

 

I forgot, I had thunder running my veins

and duryodhana means hard to conquer

 

 

NaPoWriMo 2018

A villain – human/ heroic/ revelations

 

 

whites afloat with momentous ballet moves

screeching sounds of freedom songs

salty wings frolic into a magical loop

ordinary, alone I look and walk along

with life force seagulls chase those freckled waves

under a lusty sky, watched by anticipating windows

time settles at the bay, and I poke at worms crawling into graves

sea shells laugh at the modest web footed flamingo

gazing intimately at the motions of these birds of grace

empties my heart to the rage in my veins

stinging open wounds, I had resisted to face

the seagulls fly out into the blue , leaving behind a ribbon like train

 

seagulls are exquisite and bring home the truths

dreaming of them rinses every damp tear

each crumb of heart, settles into a silent truce

soaring wings destined to be in dreams elsewhere

 

NaPoWriMo 2018

dream dictionary – seagulls

 

 

 

 

 

(beauty is inside out) 

Notoriety is in layers

six million lives, looking back 70 years

(heart sees what is invisible to the eye)

Body reveals what it consumes

gaunt carcass frames even before being dead

(dance like nobody is watching)

Walk each step as the evil eye stalks

concentration holes plagued by hawks

(true love stories never have endings)

songs of loathe that were never written

of humiliation, and hearts that were prejudice ridden

(if music be the food of love, play on)

Hate chants silence mourning sounds

each dawn mass graves shook open the ground

 

NaPoWriMo 2018

convert common phrases – reverse in content and meaning

The blooming gold greets my nervous eyes. Hesitant, I turn towards you, iron laced and tall. My face feels the wind and you no longer are a snob, a lie.

embraced by an invisible mist

inhaling incessant spring

I find myself in your shadow

You surprise me with your easy presence. I touch you for possibilities. At night, your atoms ignite my smile.

 

NaPoWriPo 2018

places – haibun

 

A.

My birth land

presided over by chatter

buzzing streets with humans

colliding into each other

like poorly punctuated sentences

B.

god beneath gods

temples within temples

mosques beside mosques

alleys inside alleys

C.

choc-a-bloc with colors,

crayon stubs, faded pencil shades

hoarded wisps of pigments

dyed wool in a basket

from many lives worth

of knitting projects

D.

myriad landmarks, loitering at corners

and showing up in centers of cities

vendors emerge with miscellaneous ware

peddling patience through the day

E.

food in flavors that compete

a discerning experience of tastes

moments juxtapose against minutes

with an intriguing intensity

proven traditions mocking rebellious chaos

F.

each city embellishes the map

fulfilling a role on the patchwork design

cinematic Himalayas fold into serpentine rivers

elemental monastries disappear into photogenic ghats

conventional gardens take on ornate palaces

coastal sands break into alluvial soils

G.

collective personalities manifest themselves

into a collaboration of local vibrancy and variety

settled into the craft of daily life

each day a giant musical production

excelling in multifaceted performance

I.

suspended harmony across the skyline

charming even when disheveled,she

teases you with her jangling anklets

forlorn, yet regal in her acceptance

resplendent like the peacock plume

she stays the mysterious muse

 

NaPoWriMo 2018

simultaneity

 

 

 

 

my younger self bowed her head to the spirit

reflecting what purpose it served

dependence on an intangible power

fearing loss of all that I thought mattered

wishing for exhilaration of love

recounting failures

not comprehending acceptance

sitting cross legged, my older self opens a notebook of thoughts

before starting to scribble and I motivate my own monologue

i remind myself that purpose of prayer is itself

prayer defines the limits to your ego

and the  battle lines of the wars with oneself

insists on a balance that is essential to love

lights up your hemispheres and erases borders

the earlier smaller me looks up

gives up herself

into my now larger self

 

I start to catalog the differences

between the flaws

of my earlier smaller spectrum

and my later bigger lens

of prayer and it’s power

and my own vulnerability

 

NaPoWriMo 2018

small and the big

 

for man to be blessed always needed girls to be trafficked

young and naive, to the goddess service she was tricked

forever at the altar of the pii and the decimal

a feminine body has been submitted to conditions abysmal

ritual of dark, feeding religious joy for centuries

 

drumming priests, initiate her to the beasts

sacrificial rapes to the drumming of fertility dance

blindfolded souls, they sway in a morbid trance

hideous masked nights, enticed  by occult ghounds

a full moon sneers into the red river as it purifies temple grounds

mysterious voices chant , devadasis deck up as brides

shattered selfs, they sink into the crescendo, terrified

possesssions discarded,spirits oppressed

bow their head to the temple’s high bequests

 

muse to Satan of the virgin womb

hissing with all her menstrual energy into the cave of the serpent’s tomb

encircling themselves into a ring,wearing garlands of hate

they howl upward at the godesss that claimed their fate

a black cat crosses their circle path, sounding thunder when she fell

each whore takes the other’s hand, dipping into the bowl of bloody spells

 

NaPoWriMo 2018

magic and mystery

Me, carpe diem’

she was about presence

discovered sighs and smiles through her children

accumulated persistence as a way of being

collecting newness, with every transformation

vividly committed, compliance received in inheritance

enduring the liveliness of daily life

normalcy of motivations surpassed any cynicism

daughter to children of a disruptive migration

made her the custodian of personal reinvention

Me too, let it go

she was the leftover heart, fluttering in a flawed world

a heart that lived in asylum, within the imperfections of her mind

surviving delibitating loss, and the family that lived on

learning to isolate her hearing from mourning anger

floating like flickering hope, above all rooms she entered

protecting dreams from being ensnared, into suffering

fearful that mortality could within minutes, be wrapped like a present

afraid of blaming, because it would reflect cowardice in the mirror

sometimes she questioned, if being blessed was a test

 

she used a poetry prompt to write her own obituary –

and then, grateful 

she reconciled

to being a star

her personality

spluttering now

forever

between

effervescence and a void

 

NaPoWriMo 2018

Identities