Fools Stop

ReWind

combing the streets
tilling a barren land to sow a soul
hands numb from carrying on for too long
cowering under the heat of arrogance
with the burden of iron laden ironies
blowing to bits all that came near
and fogging eyes with mistrusting dust
till till you rust

a few crumbs of confidence
in the darker corners of the torn pocket
slipping through like grains of sand
as the incense of futility musks its way
through the crux that is man
with all its brutality tries to hold on
a dead hard pressed hand

churned and burned in the factory of the world
screaming in silence till the voices died
condemned to meditate in the dark
with tremors of peace and disturbance in the void

like a stone rolled out of his park
for stumbling on a heresy
now splinters of myself pricked to myself
sharp edges that reflect a life
sworn to shape as a mistake
a prisoner walking down the corridor
swinging to the extremes - steps inviting
to the gallows or to drown
a life of sorrow or a life of a clown

in love with agony
with currents of eccentricity
running down the spine
and chilling the bones
marks of coarse consumption
on the high winding road
of stretches of assumptions
leaving a trail behind
of bitter burnt truths
a drug that delivered
on its promise to
leave behind a trail
of wasted youth

Magic of India

gyan chode re tu sadhu
tu hai bada
ki hai bada woh katlu
buddha ka khada na hua
toh lapet diya duniya pe jaadu
lama-o ki line lagaakar
ab lungi mein chipe baithe
hai sab ke sab jhatu

keechad ke pujari
tera ram allah issahi
lund pav koi ek toh
doosra koi bhikari
apne guru ke dwaare baith
jeb chakku rakh
kare tu punya ki kamai

lagale
mathe pe apne hi bhai ko neecha
dikhane wala tikka
yah safed topi pehen kar
apni pak kaali chadar mein
apni ma aur behen ke
saath sone wala lipta
banja koi katwa lavda
nahin toh chaat le koi gori chamdi
jinke jahaan mein hawe se
nikla tha ek harami
ek rand se uska naam tha mary
nikali jisne khud ki krishnaneety
hoja aadha aadha
second hand chakka
na idhar ka na udhar ka
choice hai teri joh tu chahe
lekin mooh karna bas apna meetha
mere sade hue pet me paka
aur teri liye nikla mera
freshly baked excreta

Smell like a Smirk

every word that comes to you
with the force of an advice
and sounds that sound
only trying to give a wound

gun shots of every kind
bury your head
in the ground
cover those eyes
and make a run

cant handle the guns
cant handle the light
from the sun
cant talk straight
without getting burned

as orphaned sons of the
crumbling towers of
self confidence
piece together
bits and pieces of existence

walk under the cover
of the night
forking out shadows
and put them up before
yourself as you
give yourself a fight

like a peddler
peddling those lines
as a busker waits for the
sunny day
hoping for someone to
drop some coins

drunk on words
thrusting but nowhere to go
peaking and troughing
through the changing moods

hiding behind the face
that has learnt to smile
as it broods
using as an aid the
smirk that came dangerously close
coming too close as a saving grace
tipping over and sitting
where once used to sit that face

Eclipse

With every insecure
breath paradoxing
to survive
fallen off their
cliffs of permanence
and staring into how
low goes the zero
standing ashore on
the great golden
plains of confusion
drifted away from
faces of ugly innocence
with high strung
notes of silence
washed by waves
crashing as tears
of the
bent and brittle
kingdom of disillusion
sinking in their
muddled creamed with
slime sand and spraying
shallow seweric waters
of their soul
with hands upward bound
blessing the slug
and the drudge of their
heavens
pray to
the leeches sucking
a life fungus laden
for the final ecliptical
wave of remorse
to arrive
and take them out
as a drunk boat
on a sea so sullen

Rape Anthem

Perfumed in loath
suppressed repressed
regressed and badly dressed
with foul smelling breath
scavenging on the
outskirts of society
and pushed further
into the suburbs then
into the slums
stoned into silence
but watching as the
bastard children of
borrowed morality charge
into the barrage of water guns
and drown in their crying
sea of slogans
come out these
new age heroes
from underground trenches
of vileness and vulgarity
carrying the old badge
of a drunk mind between
sharp angled brows
raise their arms to honor
their lost brethren
who gave themselves up
to winning battles of
a lost cause
come out with a
silent war cry and a
critical mass of explosive cowardice
slitting some sluts
and ramming their pipes
in unwelcoming tightly
latched mouthful doors
the rapers chasing
down their cheerleaders
as practitioners of art
without any connoisseurs
playing hard
in a fittingly dressed
limped style
climax with violence
finishing off their
whorer show
and give themselves
a murderous ovation
and as dawn finally
casts its shadow
through streaks of light
burning their eyes
the night rests
on its laurels
of its own history
having snatched a
performance of a lifetime
with background noises and
applause's crying
encore encore

Swaggin'

Brokers of the night
peddling away their sins
brokering their way in
as tokens forsaken

enter the jazzling discotheques
as patrons of angry bars
where the music plays
only as bungling noise
impeccably dressed in jarring crass

in the sludge of
innocent laughter
as sex drools all over
around watering pussy holes
like thirsty cocks they wander

waiting on the waitresses
drenched in spirits
sweeter than wine
wrapped in a prayer
serving cocktails of wrath

stirring with fury
in their positions
of creaming glory
sluts and whores
of love and loathe
orchestrate a
mouthful moan

giving eternal
fatal blows
butchering the butter
out of the punctured
scrotum souls
before fading away
in lustless smoke