This man on the road

What a shame

Nothing will ever change!

How long will this man last on the road

Thinking his personal odes!

Why is he worried about the world

Hasn’t he heard?

They have passed him by!

They are waiting for him to die; to pass away

On this road unknown

That will shut up another anti-voice.

They want jargon

Garlands and bargains

Doublespeak, spin, din

Not anything that makes them think

Die old man

Die in peace

Nothing will change

All will remain the same

As was 5000 years ago

Kings, Maharajas and Pharao

Gentlemen proper

But unseen millions of paupers!

Nothing will change!

It will remain the same!

Run don’t walk my man

Escape their clutches while you can.

The Wall got your Job!

fired fireman

Once you have lost

your job

And your neighbour

comes dashing

into his driveway

With determined jocosity &

his  lunchbox and briefcase

You do think

Oh My God

I am nobody!

Thanks to the wall!

Or whatever other reason!

And Jimmy Kimmel

Puts a moustache on your face

& you

Grin and bear it!

On National Television

That is life!





The thing is we are orphans now of this world

Our parents perhaps so Royal

Left us at the doorstep of Fagin leaders!

We the people are fatherless now

Our Father who art an Idea

Born with Independence died with it.

Our Mother has been raped repeatedly

By thousands of thug stepfathers all the world over.

What mercy do we seek from carpetbaggers?

Perhaps we were loved by someone once? eh?

There is no hope in sight my friends, 

Seek asylum within, no country will grant you it, no way,

In brightest night or darkest day.

Mooning–Bring me Back



That old innocence
That old innocence

That First Glow


I’ll have to pull myself

In within me

Dig out again

Through the caverns of my being.

I’ve got lost in commercial ad-like dreams

I’ll have to reset my innocence

My childhood, my teenage years as it were

Which I new I would lose

When I was young and turn cynical

and codgy

How will I find a pebble?

Lost fifty years ago?

How will I become eternally optimistic? Again

Like a child

What is the trick?

Leaves of Grass–Revisited



We are but blades of grass

On our allotted graves

For a time we grow and


And then it is done.

We are dug up and thrown into

Our own patch of land.

Each dust particle a receptacle

Of our life’s memories.

We never die but grow

Up bright as little blooms

Swaying in the Sun

A pleasant breeze.

Some day they’ll

Sift the sands

And charge the grains

Perhaps some day we will live again.

White Paper


White Paper

Why do I need to speak?

People all around me are tripping over their tongues

Why needs must I speak?

People are just speaking to spit out some mud

On someone’s white clothes.

Why ever should I speak?

Their minds are always made up

They turn a blind ear to my speech.

God gave papyrus

God gave leaves

God gave walls and stone

The earth to write

My poems. I’ve sequestered them.

Why should I speak?

Crying doves and walking dogs—6 am


IMG-20150531-01316net protection of another kind

Crying doves and walking dogs—6 am

The Sun slows down on a dusty day

Tied by a string to the horizon.

As I pass by the forest land empty streets

a dove despairs

And wails ooh hoo hoo. A peacock soothes

And shrieks, ‘wait wait’ while

Tiny birds consternated in leafy trees

Chirp ‘yes, aye, that’s right, see see’

Some whistle in joy a passing gull


The mandir pandit as usual is singing

On the mike out of tune and dolefully

To a very patient sherawalli*

Three ladies march like cadets in the park

Breathing breathless home truths and esoteric

Recipes kids shout my turn my turn in street cricket

And the garden hose washing cars snipping hedges

And cooing babies a girl discusses her home

Work sitting on a gate step on her mobile phone

Panditji fades away blissfully into the distance

Whirring air conditioners tell me I’m home.

The title actually should be Crapping Dogs.

The opening line would/could/should be

Colonel Kaul takes his dog for its morning call.

*Sherawalli is Goddess Durga riding twelve armed on her sher (lion). Sherawalli is the one with the lion.

My mistake seems to be a tiger and eight arms. Here’s one with a lion and ten arms :-