Stop beating
Oh, the bell, stop beating
The trees are sleeping
The streams running into the river
And the river into the sea
Frogs no more leap like village urchins
The village urchins
Thumping their breasts in shame.

Oh, the bugle,
Beat, beat your siren
The war planes
Flapping their wings
On my mother’s lazy lap
Just to eat into her blind eyes
In the very dark old alley.

Oh, the birds,
Beat your flying wings
To fly off the deadly ghosts
My mother will pray
For to-night wiping off her tears
The village urchins will play
Hide and seek and quarrel for nothing
And the frogs will sing
The clouds will rain now for to-night
Who will stop them from beloving the rains
Who will to-night?

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In the beginning, there was no end
There was light but no long worm of darkness
And they were happily coupled in love in their castle of wind
They were smitten by the forbidden snake
And they chose to leave the perfumed garden over the pall of darkness

But there was end of the beginning
He fell short of words for his nomadic rhymes
And she spewed the fragrance of his sweet nothings
Never to spread their wings in the silver lining
As they did not know how to compromise on their ending.

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How often do we rember, how often
To cover our face at the long end of a street
For how long do we live to die
Every time the streetcar jumps off the bumpy road
To kill the shadows of a mocking bird?

Never tell me your woes, never ever
While stealing the all for the half-penny moon
Let the nightwatchman fire you
At your every straying footstep of all ages
Every time you fall swoon in the corner dry and cold

Let the heart burn your fingers
For how long will you be fiddling your bones
Rome will never be burning by your side
So long as we look at each other's gloomy face
To feel the pulse of unerring sadness.

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An elegy
For ecstasy
For you
As I call you
Her
Of myself, from
Yours and mine

And or or
From hers and mine
Metamorphsed
Into frozen guilts
Of losing you
And I call you her
In warmth
Of yesterday's likeness
Gone, all gone
To fix you on me
As her - just her,
Not deadening her as
Likeness of you -

As
Yesterdat lasted
No more, no less
Than
Decomposing feelings
Like harelequin
Of not aughter - at all
But as sharng and cropping
Mephistopheles' miniatures
To rob me of you
From being unpardonable
So unpardonable
As she - like a siren
Damages you
Impersonified as doggerel
Of yesterday, only

Yesterday
It was - only yesterday
You were you
You became she to me
And she became
Yesterday, only yesterday
Of impersonified doggerel.

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Because
Silence looks for
A naked guilt
And collapses, darkly
In miniatures
Of a surreal - infinity
To the nth. time

You see
The hypnosia of - war
Deadened and muted
By the scowlings
Of the unwise assasin
- to keep you up
At bay of love, love...

The assasin
Rapes you - in silence
Of darkness, so darkly
To freeze you
As stillborn of love
In fear and scare
Of the old street
Lying dead
Of splintered mosaics

You stare back
At hues
No sooner than the older foes
To gaze a horny look
Barely - at the white mischief
- of minstrel musings
As the assasin rapes you
In infinity of nth. time...

Assasin! Assasin!
I scowl at the assasin
As I see you
Raped and loved
Mockingly
Mutated the cosmic genes
On harping lyre
In hushed notes of silence
And darkness so entwined
So to ask for forgiveness
As the splintered mosaic
Breaks its eyes
On the old forlorn street.

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Stalin damages
In straitjacket of peace
And downsizes Mao
So as to cease not to be so
As in his half sky

Mao weaves
And weaves wools
Of subplots
Subplots upon subplots
To quit the day
On the wrong route
In all lies of truths
Beseeching not to reason
Why the spin
Stops to revolve
- and surrenders
Its spine
To darkness, darkly

And Lenin
Perplexed in his words
Tights his seatbelt
In an armchair of diktats
And demons to follow
Suits of empirical colour
Of unburning sun
As if not to stare
At Buddha's qualms
Of truths...

Who laughs?
Who laughs at nothingness
Of all and everything?
Who asks whom - Marx or Buddha
For forgiveness?

Buddha smiles
- Marx stares back
To see
If his oracles prove
Fertle or futile
To take it all to blame
And he blames it all...

But the little soldiers
Evolve to revolve in spins
Adjourned sine die
- in chronology of history
Ending here, there
And nowhere to fall back
Upon nothingness
Of all and everything

As marx takes it all
And blames it all - all the more...

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