The Pain Of Being God
It is a pain and not a pleasure, thee know not;
Being God and not being felt by thee all so.
I am the God of thy past and thy present
And helplessly of thy future too.
I came from nothing but am still the Lord of everything
And at times I wonder about my omnipresence.
I created a lot and thought of recreation next
And so I have left this world of thy concerns.
I cause drought and flood; famine and calamities
But I am faulted neither on Sundays nor on Fridays.
I bless the wicked and shower riches on the filthy rich,
But the righteous suffer and the have-nots starve to death.
I kill a few hundreds in a plane crash or a rail mishap.
With a few surviving I am thanked again!
I first send the demon of floods and then the angels of the Red Cross,
And the silent prayer of the soon-to die goes up in the air.
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poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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Concerns Of Mysterious Love
Love is a mystery
Across the lands you inhabit.
But you draw sketches beautiful ever.
Love is a paradox
Alien to many but perhaps a dream for you
And its woes still form rainbows in your poems.
Cleopatra was a fairy with infectious charm
Who bewitched many a man
And she brought disgrace to the fairer sex.
John Keats had a Fanny Browne
Who left him dry and lone
When consumption struck him for a while.
Shelly seduced many, fell in love with two
But ran away with another!
A habitual user was he indeed!
There is a joke cracked...
There were many traumatised victims of love
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Vidarbha Weeps
The woes of the sons toiling in Vidarbha
Have no end ever.
With the 36th farmer of the land embracing death this year
Vidarbha leaves one more sigh subdued.
The brutal hands of the govt machinery
Point finger at the dry masses of the deaf land
Even as the farmers of cotton plead for a helping hand.
Vidarbha becomes a funeral ground!
Mumbai triumphs in filthy riches
A state doomed to salute the heroes there
Sachin, the Kapoors and the Khans
Know not their land or its woes.
A widow smiles above all
One hundred widows can`t do that
A coterie of men with a moving statue in the lead
Await the dictates read from the sky.
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Being A Poet, Your Version Please..
It is a pain to be a poet who takes the road often less travelled
Unlike the balladeer of a past glorious.
The skies have changed and so must your flutter of thoughts too.
Will you be a poet or a pontiff at times is the question.
A poet must not tell tales of fantasies and fossils.
The cuckoo and the nightingale have ceased to come and chirp,
Look in and around your gardens, if at all you have had one.
The lilacs and the jasmine have begun to fade and fall too.
The realities of times unwarranted are around you all ever.
Will you still sing about a transcending world of charm and delights around you?
Across the green fields of plants and weeds you can see
The scorpion peasants carrying cylinders of poison liquefied
Killing the insects and the little plants that have bore the corns.
And they are your providers of food till you die soon
Will you scribble about the bounteous tillers of the land yet?
The untainted cheeks of the lass turn red
When her lover announces his care by throwing kisses thereon
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As There Was No Other Option 2
...........When I blasted the earth with all life on it
There began a phase of silence in the solar system.
God ' the almighty ' further said, ' What next? '
I stared at him and asked, ' What do you mean? '
And a greater silence surrounded us next.
He said, 'Brother, your act leaves me null and void,
Along with this end you know, my relevance has been lost'.
I retorted, 'Your relevance was never my concern
And I have just righted a wrong done by causes unknown'.
God 'the almighty ' fumed within I knew, but He kept mum.
I said, 'Listen, the origin of life wasn`t an error,
As a choice wasn`t there within the first organism
And life had no pretentions of the kind.
Then, you weren`t there to create a relevance'.
You were not there as none thought and spoke of you'.
I said, 'Listen, then emerged the man the supreme
And he invited you into his lobby to wrong many a right.
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My Father Departed
My father breathed his last on April 7,2012
He was well beyond fair old age but
He had ever dreamt of living further.
He lived like an overgrown child
And an unschooled rustic gentleman.
He could have lived a little more.
My father was a tyrant, an octogenarian of all odds.
He was more of voice and less of size, he was 86.
He is not any more there.
He loved us less in terms of what the world thinks,
He rather owned us in terms of what we children feel.
He has left a world of his possessions!
But he wasn`t again married despite losing
His wife when was barely 44 yrs young.
I still feel he was great that way and I salute him.
But the pain in my heart is stubborn
And it refuses to leave me for just one reason -
Why do I not feel missing my father?
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Playing A Host For You
Last night I had a sweet dream, a dream of all times,
It lasted for hundreds of seconds or as I would like to believe
That it was lingering like the moon even after the dawn.
My dream still floats on mind like a feather.
Here it is… MY DREAM AS IT IS TOLD TO YOU.
In the dream dear friends, you may know for a change
I played the role of a very shy host with a small smile
And all of you my poet friends, were my guests from far off lands
Or most of you perhaps came from the lands beyond our hills.
I had not invited all of you, but they too came, A BIG 'THANK YOU'.
I made dishes of no known lands for you.
The powder of wheat and barley I used,
I mixed them with chilly, ginger and salt.
I cut for you bitter gourd, lentils and cabbage
And cooked my mix till you all came!
No dates, no eggs; nor their parents
No salmon; nor sardine too,
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About Yet Another Diwali Woe
Yet another Diwali has come with its entire glow,
Nay; its fury of sounds and flames
And the masses go crazy upsetting the tune of a happy time
Here in India with minds cracked down and deafening sounds raving on.
They buy crackers and rockets and blast up the regions calm
And they call it celebrations colourful with a difference
And go on burning the little bombs and shooting the tiny missiles.
The diyas* and the sweet dishes take a back seat
The pious women go unseen and their chants go unheard.
Diwali is all sounds and sounds and nothing else at all!
The demon king`s defeat and death at the hands of
Krishna**, the deity with a flute on the mouth
Reverberates with the message of victory of the good over the evil
Down the generations since the Aryans descended.
A baby being nourished and moulded in its mother`s womb
Wakes from its slumber and lies scarred and doomed
Its nightmare of future terror has just come true!
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If I Were 'god'!
If I were 'God',
I would first go for making myself
A figure with eyes, ears, feelings and a mind.
For I don`t want to be treated as an invisible and dubious spirit
About whom the liars and the cowards will sing again and again.
If I were 'God',
I would come along with the big bang and would`nt exist before that
And I would`nt do creation for 13 billion years
For I can`t answer the question of many 'what I was doing before that'
To which I cannot answer 'I was creating a hell for them all'.
If I were 'God',
I would next go for a smaller world of
A prettier and smaller earth, a milder sun and a shapely moon
For the ones today there are have terrible looks.
If I were 'God',
There would be no Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn
Uranus, Neptune or Pluto around this smaller Solar System
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God`s Proclamations 2012
Foreword:
I spoke the other day
These words of my proclamations
To one Dinesh Nair a dwarf bard in the East.
I spoke to him aloud,
'If you are a mortal honest, write now
My proclamations in words sans mercy incarnate'.
No sooner did I learn that I was not there than I was there.
I came from nothing and everything came from me all say..
I was confused first and more confused now.
I spoke out my heart for a while
And your hearts must be filled now fast
With thoughts great.
I
I am:
I am the Alfa and the Omega some say,
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