Friday, June 17, 2011

A businessman next door

His long locks cut short,
The beard done away with,
They dressed him up,
In a formal attire,

Words censored,
Actions monitored,
They shaped him up,
Into a man formal,

He smiled,
When they grinned,
They cuffed him up,
To check his ways,

They conspired,
He stayed calm,
They resisted,
Held him down,

He tucked his shirt,
Looked into the mirror,
At the man ready now,
The man who meant only business.

On board

Raced untiringly, A wonder he admired,
Strong metal it was, bodies with flesh inside,
Lost in the tranquil of maddening speed,
Almost free, as a bird high in the sky,
The joints and the track beneath rumble,
And it's not noise, but music of a kind,
Open the door, to the never ending fields,
And feel the air hard against your face,
And it's not pain, but a pleasure inexplicable,
The kid pressed his face against the window,
As if reflecting back on the better times,
Not wanting this journey to end, nor tomorrow to arrive,
Thirsty to soak it all up, right here tonight
I wanted to go, ask him what was on his mind,
But decide otherwise, letting him have his time,
As I lit a cigarette by the door, I wished,
If only I could spend the rest of my life on board.

The new window

No cracks in the ground,
Nor tornados in the seas,
It was change for sure though,
Butter making way for cheese,

Same cycle of days and nights,
Their lengths didn't alter,
Nature, though changed its course,
The laws did falter,

For this was a change,
From joblessness to no time,
A sharp curve inverted,
Guilty of no crime,

No time for words,
Words he lived for,
A passion that burned,
Inside a soul still pure,

Chucked the world,
He soaked himself in nectar,
Wrote tirelessly, from a room,
In the city's fourteenth sector.
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If only by Chandan Kumar is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 India License.