Deep in the hourglass of time where grains of sand flipflop in irreversible motion like photons speed-dancing seemingly infinitely only to be trapped by omnipresent blackholes And who knows that day is sleeping, and night is waking? Who knows that life is death and death is life? If paradise is a prism or a prison? Continue reading “Deep in the hourglass of time…: A poem “
Category Archives: Uncategorized
Jashmina, if you had any guts in you, you would have told Prakash to fuck off! He has not only committed crimes against me, he has committed crimes against you as well
I don’t want that creep Prakash. He has committed treachery against me from the beginning of time.
Prakash get lost! Get fucked! I’m telling you to get fucked, you have no shame? Scavenger, you are not going?
Commit suicide Prakash, for all the treachery you committed against me. For which I suffered unbearable suffering
If nobody has the guts to punish that criminal Prakash, nobody has the right to punish me. I only did my duty
I’ll kill Prakash! Conniving creep! I want him tortured to death!
Late mail to the Church: A poem
Oh! I can see you’ve started calling your Pope – Leo Is it the old Leo, or is it something neo? Next you will be telling the laity to BYO All that bread and wine, meant to be heavenly bio Is your incense deodorant for God or for the De-O?! O Church! For millennia, you’veContinue reading “Late mail to the Church: A poem “
Who can blame the daughter of the devil that her eternal love is God?: A poem
Deep in the shadows of Ayodhya The forests are thick with tears For even God has to shift gears that paradise is lost and its spirit stolen But love is unbroken, resoluteness never forsaken Yet, sometimes one needs props like Hanuman for the undefeatable to be undone And the salt of Galilee always saw treachery Continue reading “Who can blame the daughter of the devil that her eternal love is God?: A poem “
Yellow is no dirty fellow: A poem
North is blue and yellow. West is blue and red. East is green and red. Can’t change the colour you were bred, even if that you dread. South is green and yellow. There may be some saffron, on the apron. The king of the jungle can sing for a living. He is no dirty fellow. Continue reading “Yellow is no dirty fellow: A poem “