it was not you

I thought it was you, father,

And obeyed,

Not to go into the troubled seas,

But it was not you.

I thought it was you, mother,

And obeyed,

Not to be what I always wanted to,

But it was not you.

I thought it was you, brother,

And obeyed,

Not to disclose the secrets I had discovered,

But it was not you.

I thought it was you, love,

And obeyed,

Not to embrace the more beautiful,

But it was not you.

It was neither of you,

I was only looking into a mirror.

I can see my face now,

But alas ! It's too late, I die.

companions

Along with the troubled waters,

Of the Ganges, which once clear,

Was the beholder of many lives,

That which you have troubled with bullshit,

So that you could fish the dying.

Along with the fire that which,

You have ignited in the stomachs,

Of your believers and the wretched,

Which offer you light and them illusions.

Along with the smoky air,

Fighting which, with much effort,

Sight has to penetrate.

Along with the dead bodies,

Of hopes- of the living and the dead,

Those that offer you sacrifice.

Along with the excreta,

Of once living, humble,

Sober animals, truthful to their natures.

Along with the music that,

Arises out of, but engrosses greater,

Rebellious vigours.

Along with the debts,

Of tranquility of the several dissatisfied spirits,

Of spiritless conditions.

I am a part of it, but I know,

This is not some dwelling place,

Which claims to be my temple.

the sickle, hammer and my aged comrade

We know why you're here,
For fighting with some Marx,
Some Lenin or Mao,
With the wretched of the earth,
Against the demons of this heaven,
Against the gods of this hell.

You, who had once used,
The telescopes of time,
To find yourself with us,
You failed!
To reap from the plants you saw through it,
For the grounds have long refused the seeds.
The hammer has failed to force the seeds in.
You come wherefrom, and to reap what,
from your illusory tree.
You get nothing,
But dying seeds,
And we behold the telescope,decades old,
The sickle and the hammer.

The grills of dogmas have us jailed,
Several cling to it,
Several have climbed to heights,
With their help,
Are on the other sides now.

Look outside,
Into the fertile lands,
Telescopes are banned & ridiculed,
But sold in the darkness,
Of the big brothels,
Wrapped in the red towel,
Having paintings of what we behold.

my beloved's rape

Who are you that coerces into me,
The sight of my beloved's rape, to see.
Whose gunpowder smells in this garden,
Which, with rose odour, I wish to burden.
Which shackles do hold my will
With which I triumphed many a hill.
How do I live- tell me with all
The vices that on my heart befall.
How can I, in these conditions, stay
Where you spit on the child, but,
the mother you pray.
I find you in me and me in you,
But I do realise whom to sue.

When I think of the beauty I could create
out of my raped beloved,
Your gun points at me offering freedom,
but only to masturbate.
To which unmarried parents do you belong?
Your impotent vigour has lasted 60 years long.
The police, the army, the court is your,
But do not take, at least me, for sure.
She is my beloved whom you harass,
Beware of her other lovers.
They have in store all you have
and much more than that,
Except the evil impulse with which you act.
I know you won't leave or flee
For, though the garden is mine,
the lovers are not with me.

imprisoned

Do not let yourself be illusioned
By the cheerful colours my shirt reflects.
It's the same shirt, a hypocrite
That encircles my heart in darkness,
Doesn't allow a ray of light through
And keeps, in void, my heart imprisoned.

Do not let yourself be illusioned
By the virtue this shirt shows of me.
It's the same shirt, a hypocrite
That hides all my naked vice,
Doesn't allow out a hint of what I am,
And keeps, in void, my truth imprisoned.

Oh! I could tear off this shirt
That makes me anything but me.
But do not be illusioned
by this wish improper.
For behind this wish is a truth-
My fear for revealing my nakedness.