Little bit of enigmatic questioning from me to Mum and Jashmina!: A poem 

What do you know what is hell or heaven? 

Did you get any idea when you last visited seven-eleven? 

And how you wonder if everything in between is your gated purgation?! 

Can I make my choices without any blindfolded, deluded vindication? 

My mother always thought God lived in heaven? 

She hadn’t a clue that God lived for some time in her womb, but never did in any angelic illusion! 

I know she is Maria, Mary, more seven and six, but not the fish-craven 

How on earth did we all get messed up in a stew of fish and crappy, crabby moon? 

Is it my persistence, restraint, patience or self-torturing empathy for all others, but myself, that all this never ends too soon? 

Can I count on Jashmina to describe what is murky and what is morbid? 

Whose is the Judgment card, must it be a distant key to tea for me?  

Why am I, then, always a tower struck by lightning? Aren’t you, Jashmina, the one who is sweet sixteen? 

Just to add, that lucky ducks feed on fish, but never find the sea their permanent wish! 

Mother, do you now realise the difference between Sunny poison and the more venomous fishy Poisson? 

Would you know I, your son, am a silent visionary, the real God, always abhorred and never acknowledged and spited for two millennia;  

while your elder son got all the undeserved credit and reverence and halo!  

But should he have been sadly consigned to be cannibalised for aeons by a worthless self-seeking and evil Church? 

Jashmina, where stands your loyalty? Is it to Jesus, why was his gaslight so starkly distant between scorpion and fish? 

So, was he packaged that way by the incorrigibly illegitimate manipulator Saint Paul and the malevolent deep sea? 

Is it because Prakash Saint Paul endeavours to shadow play all the devious designs behind the curtains  

for his own selfish conveniences and benefit! 

Does he not know he fancied Jesus two millennia ago, and murdered James? 

So why is he so relentlessly desperate to capture James or seek James’ condoning, now? 

I just, myself, wouldn’t be desperate to acquire back everything that was once hijacked  

and burgled from me, at this juncture, only purely for my self-preservation and all yours too! 

Mother, have you seen how I humour my own agony, to alleviate my hardship? 

Jashmina, do you understand that I laugh despite a ganging up against me of all the  

world and you too, in subservience to the commanding checkmating force of treachery against me!