dead

death sat by the sidewalk nursing a beer

his eyes twinkling with bloodshot cheer

he raised his bottle and took a swig

and then another to make it big

he belched, farted and let out a sigh

as he wonderingly watched the world whiz by

he saw a traffic jam that stretched a mile

and never spotted a single cheery smile

he gazed into their eyes wet with worry

heard their short steps breathless in hurry

like they were rapidly running out of place

and thought of the Piper and the rat race

so he shook his head and raised many toasts

to the lovely living who lived like ghosts

to the teeming millions who struggled on

like broken clockwork toys from dusk to dawn

and pondered if they even knew their crime

that they were dead before he called time.

ram cobain

(Pic courtesy Dreamtime)

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70 years

70 years of Independence and this I know my flag flutters high but my head hangs low how cold the sun on this great glorious day as men once on a path are now galloping astray children are dying for breath and we fill our lungs with venom that chokes and also coats our tongues and the hurt, the horror, the hellacious heartbreak is that it’s whataboutery that keeps us awake how did so much hate come to fill our veins? what happened to our hearts, and to our brains? what made us so blind that we choose not to see that the abyss is staring back into us in glee my eyes aren’t red and my tears don’t show yes, my flag flutters high but my head hangs low.

ram cobain

(Indian Flag pic courtesy Google)

(The ‘abyss’ reference is obviously from Nietzsche)

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untouched

malice punched him in the gut

spite slashed hard, eager to cut

hate went for a frontal attack

as insecurity stabbed his bent back

doubt questioned him from head to toe

while misunderstanding just said no

negativity shouted into his ears

as panic filled him with unknown fears

infidelity fooled and cut him in half

while gossip guffawed a hearty laugh

rage shot at him point fucken blank

while hurt sat in a corner and drank

but steel simply smiled, sighed, said

I think I must have a thick head

see, I can take it all on my chin

and you can’t even wipe away my grin.

ram cobain

(Pic courtesy Google)
                    

the knowing

the world looked at him sideways

edged past quickly to give him space

to their eyes, he seemed rather weird

a thing to be shunned rather than feared

he did not fit neatly into their plans

conceived carefully or crafted by chance

he did not know how to follow their rules

(sired as he was perhaps by fools?)

everything about him seemed so wrong

(what was right was he did not belong)

why, even the tide fought him at first swim

and in life, only a handful understood him

yet his great glorious strength did stem

that of the handful – he was one of them.

ram cobain

alas

Privilege sits in a corner, crying

that the embers in the fireplace are dying

while pyres of the forgotten blaze and burn

into dead heaps of ashes with no urn.

ram cobain

(Pic courtesy Google)