Monday, June 16, 2008

The Dance Of Apocalypse

A suprasegmental sound
Merged the elements.
From trance, He woke up
To begin the apocalypse

Deep blue throat
Containing the galactic poison
The matted hair, released
With the angered nod

Body smeared with ash
Lion’s skin covered his waist
Neck encircled with vicious serpents
Gaze showering fire of disgrace

To the deafening rhythm of the dual drum
The turbulent dance began
The vigorous moves shook the cosmos
Still, wide eyes, keen on destruction

The shivering palms and raging feet
With energy pulsating, uncontrolled
The sides vanished into nothingness
With kicks from the dancing legs

The third eye opened.
And nothing could be said then
No description, left to describe
Time dissolved into eternity

What is created,
Needs to be destroyed!
No light, no space, not even void, remains
Until the creative conch would blow again

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Magical Life

The crowd conquered the corner of the street
Where the Magician had all set to please the day
The baggage opened a world of magic
A Magical playground, and a Magicians play

A round black hat, a few packs of cards
An old scabbard with a sharp looking sword
Laying a mat on the floor he started,
A new play on the destiny’s black board

A wave of his hand, made the impossible happen,
Things would appear. The moment next, they were gone.
Belongings vanished as if they never belonged,
A Pigeon was lost in his hat; from within a rabbit was born.

"Oh my GOD!", people remarked,
Some with eyes wide open, some exclaimed with sound.
some tricks cheated death,
Leaving the audience spellbound.

when the show ended, he wrapped it all
collecting the rewards thrown for his show
then he disappeared in to the crowd
and dissolved in the myriad faces, steady and slow

But a poets eyes followed him
cat footed, unto his home
surprised they stood to watch
a ruined hut with a leaking dome

He seemd to have forgotton the Magic
for He himself cooked a bowl of rice
what he added was the common salt
and ate it amongst the fraternity of mice

after a few quiet moments,
He called it a day
into his own magical night
on a dreamy path he made his way

How the poet wonders, for
the many masks humans ware
from the nameless to the eternal
while the truth stood naked and bare

How the poet wonders, for
the magic that life displays
everything ends like a paradox
weird magic is life, and weird is her play