Category Archives: Thoughts

Dust Storm
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Dust Storm

Dust Storm

Dust Storm (Photo credit: expom2uk)

Winds knock on our door,

Hoping to push it ajar,

Seek refuge from the dust they stirred,

Hesitant then, now so hurried,

Frantic, chased by a fearsome foe,

By their own making, a lament, a woe,

Brown tinged,  sands spin in a swirl,

From the heated hills, a horrid twirl,

The eerie cat cries, no place to hide,

From the caves, the dogs whine in fright,

Windows darkened, sound cracked,

You and me,  and hope so huddled,

We hope to wear this dusk out,

Into a long, uncertain night.

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Why do we blog?

Is it
to fill the emptiness in our lives with granules of thoughts?
Because
we believe we have something to say?
we cannot speak and so we write?
we are filled with bitterness at what we see?
Run away from all of them and all of these?
we love and dare not say it?
of the strange urge of self- expressionism?
we wanna document our experiences for posterity?
believe that the message is in the medium?
no one notices me otherwise?
of my urge to escape reality?
I really need a group to belong?
I have nowhere else to turn?
I am intensely lonely?
It is just vanity publishing?
Could you tell me why you blog?

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River Ganges

As you unlock yourself from the Himalayas,

Hurling boulders as they gurgle along side you,

Reformat  this ancient, harrowed , civil terrain,

I stand by your  decrepit  bank in fear and awe,

Touch your cold water to soothe my torments

Wash my sins, drench my dilapidated emotions,

Watch the decrepit dirt  slip away in the splash of your colours

I think of my ramshackle  past, then,  snap the tenuous thread

Death of thought, of reflect, of felt, of sensate, of disgust,

Birth of light, of detach, of spirit, so indifferent, of calm,

A thousand lamps lit along you in hurried,  hazy  hues

Each one a tear drop of time,  your biographer,

Me lost save in your arms , so welcome  icy cold,

You drench with your countless drops, chill my fire within.

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The Climb up in Life

Barefoot climb.
Steep plane vertical.
Holding onto slippery rails.
Hills Blue and Black.
Dark, deep forests swaying wild.
Hot rocks smouldering.
Stones simmering in noon heat.
Lone companion on a long trudge .
Looking for the crest.
Elusive with every step.
Yet higher the ascend.
Hear the irregularity of breath.
The blaze of a fire.
Then the Sight of the Invisible.

Faces
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Faces

Big Beautiful Face Statue in Tenerife

Big Beautiful Face Statue in Tenerife (Photo credit: epSos.de)

Faces-
They come back to me in time,
I see them repeating as before,
Visages which seem the same,
They remind- stirrings once more,
From among crowd, they haunt,
The stares- the mind they challenge,
Memories, they nudge and taunt,
Rise from the ashes of passage,
Anger at frothing amnesia so selective,
From the dustbin, burnt leaves reformatted,
Books of the past, in reclaims so restive,
Knocking at strained re-collective doors in regret ,
Countenances so lucid that they fade,
Into oblivion yet more jaded.

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A Security Guard’s Story

I am a security guard at the Debit and Credit Bank.
I earn a decent , minimal salary in these times of recession.
My monthly pay packet is fair enough to take home after tax deductions.
I pay taxes so that the bank where I work can be sustained through Government funding.
I am told that as a taxpayer I own quite a substantial number of shares in this DC Bank.
So I sit through the night and guard the bank which I own as a taxpayer. I guard so that external brigands do not plunder.
Everyday, I watch in awe as these blue suited, dignified looking, learned but taciturn bankers move out in hordes in the evenings.
I stay behind television screens and read newspapers ( I read as I am lonely in the darker hours of night as I struggle to keep awake)… read that my bank is paying its investment bankers $ 250 million as bonuses…It is about performance related pay… (PRP)
It is paying $ 400 million as fines for rigging the ‘Libor’…
It is creating a reserve of $ 1 billion to protect the bank from mis-sellings in insurance and swaps… ( I do not understand these words…so these might be very technical terms to understand and implement… that is why these bonuses are paid) ; banks are ambiguous; banks are complex.. they mis- sell; I mis-read!.

Democratization of the writer and of writing. . .
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Democratization of the writer and of writing. . .

The Poem

The Poem (Photo credit: Zavarykin Sergey)

Few wrote earlier.
Fewer published.
The elite read.
The miniscule number published.
We had to visit libraries to borrow books.
WordPress changed all that …
All of us write now. Or at least most of us blog…
We read each other’s writings.
There are several million blogging on a daily basis reading or writing.
We comment on what another writes.
We appreciate what the other person writes.
We encourage each other to write better.
We try not to criticise in mean manner.
We listen to the other voice.
We are multitudes; we are global…
We never knew each other until we met here.
We encourage each other and raise the bar subtly.
Raise Expectations … authors attempt to reach these expectation stars.
It is no more a feudalistic few privileged who are men of letters but several millions talking in a babble that each one of us listen to and try to comprehend… (at least we think we comprehend).
We make leaders of blog writers… we follow them…and leaders become servant leaders who follow followers…Gandhi called for servant leaders for democracy to succeed…
We are not ethnocentric. We are several nationalities and several cultures.
I call this the Democracy of the WordPress Mosaic…
May be we are all vain …
But more so I think we are what Thomas Grey wrote: ” full many a flower is born to blush unseen and lose its fragrance in the desert air…
WP gave us an opportunity to blush seen , not to be lost in the searing heat of the desert of life…
WP is what I see as proletariat power writing in force as Marx would have said…or the advancement of the plebians as Romans would have said…
And all of us write so ‘pressingly’ as Keynes would have wanted it here and now for in the long run we are dead!!!

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