Image credits – maxpixel.net

WAIT …..

I’ve been waiting for you
I thought I’ll wait for you
with tears, almost dried
with hopes, almost perished
with desires almost desolated
with promises almost hollow
I’ve been waiting for you
I thought I’ll wait for you
with dreams almost in dreamy eyes
with feelings almost confused and perplexed
with thoughts almost in no direction
with a heart almost devoid of senses
I’ve been waiting for you
I thought I’ll wait for you
with my senses almost strained
with my eyes almost dreary
with my lips almost parched
with my face almost wrinkled
I’ve been waiting for you
I thought I’ll wait for you
with a brain almost numb
with fingers almost forgot to count
with hair almost grey
with vision almost blurred
I’ve been waiting for you
I thought I’ll wait for you
with seasons almost have no reasons
with clothes almost have no purpose
with festivals almost have no joy
with colours almost have no texture
I’ve been waiting for you
I thought I’ll wait for you
with flowers almost lost smell
with food almost stale
with fashion almost fade
with favour almost forgotten
I’ve been waiting for you
I thought I’ll wait for you…

THE MARKET PLACE

The uproar of the great show
The buzzing of the poisonous bug and flies
Bringing a new faith, tomorrow a newer one
We go fanatic and carried by it
We believe only in gods who make a great voice
The place is full of grave buffoons
They want blood from us
Their bloodless souls’ thirst for blood
They sting our innocence
They flatter you, they buzz around you
Their baseness glimmers and glows

SCHOLAR

They rote Plato, Socrates, Derrida and others
Vomiting and spiting them
Every now and then
They stare at thoughts that others
Have thought
Their wisdom smells as if it came from
swamp, full of muck and slime
The insects grow and growl in it
They are glib and agile
busy in crocheting data
weaving information
digesting lies
They work like donkeys and ants
They keep an eye upon one another
And do not trust one another
They prepare venomous ideas
And put on protective gloves
They play with loaded dice
They play eagerly to cutthroat
They put dirt and rubbish around them

POET

Poets are liars
Produce potpourris from their coffers
delight with their lyrics and rhymes
They dream of a utopia
cloud their thoughts with the hope
embellish it with stars and the moon
They create, confuse and confound the mind
We move in their world
like Alice in the Wonderland
We move from Byzantium to the bower
of Nightingales and Skylarks
fluttering here
hopping there
to find that we are in the Wasteland.