Speechless Thoughts Read online

  Consumed by the hungry juice.

  My eager nose captures a few,

  My eyes trying to decipher

  The spinning vortex,

  Sucked into the heat.

  The soft patter of dripping water-

  From the crowns of icy mountains;

  From the ocean depths.

  The curried mixture of sand-

  Red, black, white-

  From crescent shaped bays;

  From blood soaked battlefields;

  From coral embedded sea beds.

  The vibrant robes of quartered flowers-

  Roses, daffodils, sunflowers.

  From the peaks of windswept cliffs;

  From the cold stone of worm-eaten tombs.

  The aromas of every imaginable odour-

  Cinnamon, roasting meat, mown grass-

  From ages fires raging through millennia;

  From treasures supplies on board

  royal vessels.

  The noises of petrified creatures-

  Sheep, dogs, humans-

  From rolling fields with meadow tresses;

  From the darkest prison dungeons;

  From the chilly derelict streets.

  All went in in the cauldron of fire,

  And smoke finally engulfed

  The melting pot.

  Where all the ingredients

  Were crystals welded-

  Welded into a masterpiece-

  A blue sphere

  In a backdrop of

  Black.

  ****

  10. A Walk in Your Shoes

  There was the hunched figure

  Shrouded in the mist

  His shoulders sunken with the

  weight of dejection

  A disparaging huff later,

  A crowd bypassed

  Shunting hostile stares with his

  bewildered expression.

  I never really knew.

  What it would be like

  to walk in your shoes.

  I walked parallel, my feet

  taking me further away.

  And his tormented eyes

  locked onto mine.

  “Why don’t you take a walk in

  My shoes?”

  His artichoke heart didn’t

  betray the tumult of emotion

  broiling inside.

  His unfathomable face didn’t

  betray the pain and torment.

  I never really knew.

  What it would be like

  to walk in your shoes.

  His reclusive stance never

  reared to show the tense

  Nervousness that was

  annexed inside.

  I never really knew.

  What it would be like

  to walk in your shoes.

  His natural smile

  Was a painted lie-

  a hard etch onto a frozen soul

  to disguise the numbness underneath.

  I never really knew.

  What it would be like

  to walk in your shoes.

  ****

  11. Our First Bow

  Withered we stand,

  Our last robe leaving our frozen frames,

  The dying tissue, so decoratively draped,

  Snatched by an unforgiving gale.

  We stand naked in our brave-faced bark,

  Our happiness stripped away,

  But our pride intact.

  Withered we stand,

  An unyielding wind relishing

  Our slender fingers,

  Fracturing our perfect symmetry,

  Driven by an envy unmatched.

  But we’ll never sway,

  Never stoop so low,

  We might be broken,

  But our pride intact.

  Withered we stand,

  Our silent screams unanswered,

  By the hiding beacon,

  Wisps of cotton obscuring,

  Our elixir of life.

  But still we persist,

  Our ragged thirst ripping our hearts,

  Our majestic bodies diminishing,

  Into shrunken translucence.

  But our pride intact.

  Withered we stand,

  Starved of care and beauty,

  Skin drooping, hunger menacing,

  Our last hopes dying in

  Our cobwebbed throats.

  But there comes our savior,

  Batting a sheen of opaque fabric,

  And shining once more—

  On our ravished souls.

  He glares bright and strong,

  Steaming with a triumph,

  Unmatched by our struggles,

  And lets light dawn once more,

  On a land frozen, forgotten.

  Our frightened threads slowly,

  Curl themselves into a woven,

  Blanket,

  Our spiky icicles drip their last,

  Drops of blood,

  And our raving mind

  So necrotic by a maddened frenzy

  Calms in the warm haze.

  The silent wasteland,

  Transforms into a chattering meadow,

  Mute birds sing out buried melodies,

  Unconscious creatures race about,

  Gentle breezes pamper our dresses.

  Time mends our complaining hearts,

  And our beacon kindles a fire of hope,

  A flame that thaws through misery and

  Cold, A flame that

  Guides us in the darkest ages,

  A flame that makes us know—

  There is something we bow to,

  Something our pride can’t overlook.

  ****

  12. The Most Beautiful Place

  I was there when it all began,

  When God created Earth and the roasting Sun.

  I saw the creation of the first humans, in the blue void,

  Saw more life seeping in, quick as a rushing asteroid.

  Saw the green become gray and saw the blue become brown.

  And one day God asked me,

  “Find a place of the most beauty, a place which nowhere can surpass,”

  I travelled the globe, in search of a place, a place whose beauty was infinite.

  I had begun in high hopes, for I was eager to behold the fruits of God’s creations,

  But I saw that all the carefully knitted blanket was cracking its foundations.

  The slender blades of grass were crushed under money driven nations.

  I saw their handiwork rip apart their delicate home,

  Saw them revolve round and round just their own lives.

  And forget about the millions of other living things, starved and hunted,

  I saw them forsake the noble laws that they laid out on their evolution

  And wallow in crime and deception, which led to world-wide diminution

  I returned to my abode, where God saw my misery and was crestfallen, and asked me

  “Was there not one place on the whole Earth that at least surpasses the rest of the world?”

  I answered him with a sad sigh and spoke the only words that I could give in reply

  “Oh, God, I saw the world, every bit,

  And tried and tried to find a place that was unpolluted by human actions

  And which held equal ecosystem attractions

  I found every place with a large gap of rich and poor refractions

  I tried and tried to find a place that wasn’t dominated by the propriety of money

  Oh God, I failed in this quest

  And I don’t know how to amend the flaws that we made in your creations.”

  I saw the god deep in thought and speak to me of his musings

  “Alas, I never wished for the Earth to come to this state,

  I hope the humans will understand in time because

  The only hope they have is realization”

  ****

  13. Reminiscence

  The sun greets me lik
e it always had,

  A bright smile against

  The memories that rush back.

  Do you remember? it asks

  The sky bears down in eager

  welcome

  Do you remember? it asks.

  Moss now covers the old swing

  Preserving all those days

  Which time has left behind.

  Do you remember? it asks

  The floor is now lidded with

  A veil of green,

  A thin coffin of those footprints

  that once were .

  Do you remember? it asks

  The wind touches my face and

  Sighs with recognition

  Do you remember? it asks

  The trees twist and bend

  A routine my mind

  had never erased

  Do you remember? it asks

  A book lies abandoned,

  Its pages eagerly trying to

  lure me back in.

  A rustle as another piece breaks off,

  joining the wind on its expedition

  to leave behind its reminiscences.

  I will remember, it says.

  I find the spot where it all had left me

  When the memories had turned sour,

  Where hope had abandoned my haunts.

  I will remember, I echo.

  ****

  14. The Night Canvas

  They shunned her- yelled and cringed,

  Hurled her to the cobbles

  where she lay for the moon.

  They hushed when

  they saw her staring up with

  Eager eyes and

  Averted their own orbs and

  Hurried on-

  Ignoring.

  She lay back on the concrete that had

  Finally embraced her-

  Unlike the whirling life that

  Sped past- unwilling to hold out a hand.

  She watched the heavens with

  an awaiting gaze,

  Unbroken by the repulsed,

  The horrified and the conceited.

  And sighed for the curtains to drop,

  For the light to perish and the moon to

  Greet her.

  The clouds wafted away and

  The yellow beacon dwindled and

  Burned out, leaving

  the canvas she wanted.

  The painting sheet filled with

  the sprinkling of white.

  And the smiling face-

  Of her sole friend.

  An emaciated finger rises

  and joins the dots.

  As always, forming the

  two words

  She knew she would always

  trace:

  Thank you

  ****

  15. Stolen Childhood

  For bricks and mortar

  I will give you ten

  For fifty newspapers

  I will give you five

  For tea and biscuits

  I will give you two

  For factory work

  I will give you six

  For your sister’s work

  I will give her ten

  In return will you give me,

  A stolen childhood?

  For bricks and mortar

  You’ll work twelve

  For fifty newspapers

  You’ll work three

  For tea and biscuits

  You’ll work one

  For factory work

  You’ll work eight

  In return will you give me,

  A stolen childhood?

  The grass rustled under his

  Emaciated feet.

  Accustomed to his fatigue,

  His necrotic state.

  How are they?

  the blades whisper.

  I will give you a stolen childhood

  If it keeps them alive.

  How’s are they?

  The wind whispers as it caresses

  His starved face.

  As well as bricks and mortar

  Fifty newspaper

  tea and biscuits

  and factory work

  can keep them.

  I have nothing left

  Everything is taken

  Along with my stolen childhood.

  Where’s the laughter gone?

  Where’s the happiness?

  Or has it all been eclipsed by

  the fear,

  The fear that my stolen childhood

  won’t be enough?

  ****

  16. A Battle In The Heavens

  A clash of swords, hurls of battle cries,

  Screams of creatures dark.

  A murmur of words, flashes of light,

  Shouts of creatures divine.

  A battle of the natures—

  For angels and demons,

  Had decided to fight for control,

  The battle went on, and slowly receded,

  But the spirit which floated in their hearts

  Was unwaning,

  Until the land was littered with corpses,

  And the space was empty save two enemies-

  The only survivors of the battle… The battle of natures.

  I was born when the Earth was green,

  And filled with lush vegetation.

  When people smiled and furnished my day with happiness

  And were full of acclamation.

  But slowly the happiness tired,

  And I realized the unhappy imbalance,

  That everyone around me had deceived me of.

  Fateful was the day when I found out,

  That my dear brother, my idol, my senior,

  Was willingly abandoning me, to take up a post,

  A post as the King of people of the whole world.

  How I wept, day and night, thinking of how

  I would have suited the throne,

  How I deserved the seat more than Him,

  How I worked harder, toiled every day of my life,

  Admiring Him, respecting Him, Slaving under Him…

  And all for this—to be reduced to wearing rags,

  And quivering under the shadow of inescapable death.

  But still I was waiting, eager for my chance,

  Eager for the day when He would crown me King,

  Fateful was the day when I heard the news,

  The news from His tropical bird (Oh, he has many of those.)

  That He had a heir, a heir who stole my future,

  A future I had craved for, but which was

  A mirage, just a flitting mirage.

  It built up in me, slowly and steadily,

  A voice of unearthly moans,

  Reflecting all the sadness of my life,

  Cheated, Abandoned, Robbed

  It twisted my mind, but it was a soothing potion,

  A potion understanding my misery,                    

  The only thing that understood me in my whole life,

  Desperation took hold—I wanted to be King,

  I wanted to be King so desperately…

  I asked the voice, begged the voice,

  To fill me up with its magic droplets,

  Speak of a solution, key to unlock long

  Forgotten happiness

  Droplets of soothing love,

  I waited and waited, and finally I heard…

  Revenge…

  I knew what the word meant,

  But I shrank away from its beauty,

  Its blinding seductiveness

  I locked away the voice, ran away from it,

  But the haunting words were bound tight,

  And didn’t let go until I obeyed…

  Fateful was the day when I

  A scream rang out—

  A wounded animal, bounding off the

  Walls, distancing itself from it’s agonious’ source.

  I pushed the jagged metal deeper,

  Deeper into the frantic heart,


  And was blessed with a fountain of scarlet,

  A scarlet stealing the life it gave.

  Deeper and deeper, the metal dug,

  Until it scraped away flesh,

  Flesh from a grave void—empty of life.

  And high above, in heavens wrecked,

  The demon cackled and the air was

  Filled with her evident pleasure.

  And nearby, the angel watched, her eyes

  Filled with evident sadness, as she saw the

  Murder; murder of the only ray of hope—the King.

  I was born when the Earth was green, and filled with lush vegetation,

  But I know that I will die when the Earth was green not,

  But when it was a molten wreck, and when misery resides.

  For there is no food, and all my subjects are getting restless

  Restless, and wistful of when He was the King.

  Far away, the heir wept, and remembered the final hours of

  His father’s life… Remembered the words of his uncle—

  “Run away, Little One, and then nobody will find out…

  If you hadn’t gone looking for trouble in places you shouldn’t have,

  Your father wouldn’t have died trying to save you, would he?

  Oh what would your mother say… what would she think?

  Run away, run away, and never return…”

  And his young heart couldn’t see the deceit and the

  Cunning in his uncle’s words,

  And just remembered the haunting meaning of

  The artful blanket, the woven blanket that chased him away…

  The angel watched this with curiosity, and suddenly foresaw

  A wonderful sight—A King standing proud over forests green,

  And civilizations erect and advanced,

  And she realized that there was hope after all.

  For many years I wallowed in sorrow,

  And spent my days of exile in regrets,

  And wished and wished, that my dad was

  Alive, and watching over me—

  Like he had promised…

  And one day, I saw a lioness, a lioness

  Who was my favorite, and when she noticed

  Me, she begged and begged that I would come back,

  To become King, the King she knows I am,

  The King she sees inside…

  I tried to explain, to say my past,

  Was binding me to this punishment,

  But she didn’t understand, and how could I

  Tell her the truth, the truth of who was responsible

  For my father’s death…

  But then I heard about the starved kingdom,

  The subjects imprisoned in their own graves…

  And the King within me reared,

  And roared its anger and indigence…

  I ran and ran, my feet racing the wind…

  Until I reached the molten wreck,

  And in the destruction I heard one word,

  One word which changed the scope of my duty,

  Revenge…

  I knew what it meant, and made my mind up,

  And I swept the sword across the throat…

  And I heard the truth… The truth of who was responsible

  For my father’s death…

  And it was with a lighter heart that I took up the throne, and

  Ruled over the molten wreck,

  Slowly turning lush and green…