Month: April 2021

he bud that you nurtured
With love and care
Bloomed it to a flower
Took pride in its beauty and grace
Same flower swayed in
The direction of its choice
Annoyed, infuriated
You took it as a blot
As a disgrace to your HONOUR
And you nulled
Its existence!
How could same hands
That nurtured it to bloom
Be so cold ; so inhuman ?
How could that heart
That was the seat of love
Harbour such hatred ?
How could the mind
That gave lessons of
Courage and resolution
Be so intolerable of
the individuality of
The flower of his own garden ?

Poems are as poems go
Be they long or troublesome
Or be they short and droll
Poets are as poets come
Beloved or not we know.

So if you like it or if not
There’s only one condition
That poets give it their best shot
With or without contrition.
They give us what they’ve got

So if you like or if you don’t
Is really not a problem
What is really what we need
And the only thing is that indeed
Just that we’ve really got ’em.

In any case, that’s what I hope…
Thank God for poets and for their poke
They give us fires we all can stoke!
Food for thought and heat indeed
To tame the winter should we need.

Poems and poets
Two things we need
Thank God for them
And for their seed.
Indeed, dear friend, indeed.

In silken cocoon I roll
Protected by my mother
With luck I will survive
If not eaten by my brother

Barely a new born bub
I balloon to find a home
Floating far, far away
Wherever I may roam

Grounded in a new world
I teach myself to spin
I must complete my web
Before the night moves in

My silk is my DNA
Stronger than rope or steel
My first imperfect web
Set to catch a meal

Do not ask me questions
I have no voice to speak
My food must be liquid
Before I can but eat

Disturb me in my web
I will start it swirling
I can keep it up for hours
Spiders call it whirling

Two claws for each leg
Helps me climb a wall
Man-made things like glass
Will always make me fall

I hope to hide from birds
Your shoe or that spray
I cherish my short life
Each and every day

See me in your home
Do not fret or scream
To me it’s dry and warm
Safe and cosy clean

Do not scream at me
For I cannot hear a sound
Only vibrations do I feel
On a wall or on the ground

I will readily earn my keep
Catching flies and bugs
I will remain in my corner
Away from shelves and rugs

I only have cause to bite
If my life is at stake
Rarely am I fatal
Rarely a mark I make

Do not wave your arms at me
My eight eyes do not see
Ironic don’t you think
How my life can be

I have no nose to smell
Your displaced fright and fear
I am more afraid of you
If I am to be sincere

When our paths do cross
It’s a brief moment in time
What is years to human you
Is a minute of spider mine

Your amazing thoughtfulness,
silly antics, openness,
and loving words
stirred something inside
and blurred the lines
about how things should be
and made me realize
this is a sign
of how fortunate I am
to share just a little
of your time.

Thoughts of this
stretch a slow, sweet smile
across my face
and make me
deliciously
anticipate
our next talk,
our next laugh,
our next embrace.

More than
your sexy fun style,
Your smile
Lights up my world,
with warmth
and Roman Candles.

Even though
you are not mine,
I hope to share
a little more
of your time…

Because you inspire
a Fire
of all kinds.

The core of a carnatic raga
A lullaby
Which my mother forgot to sing or
Which I forgot as I grew up
Mother the sweetest experience in life
The whole Universe in a cradle
Swung gently by a mother…..
A mother fights for her child till the last drop of life
A life which she willingly gives to her child.
The womb, safest place in the world
Very secure, where not even light pierces you.

Life is but a moment; a breathe in a game to play,

where nothing is totally given and memories fill hearts in a day.

It’s where dreams are lost in realness, and mountains are too many to climb;

where money is hard to conceive and people still beg for a dime.

Life is haunting imaginings of things that never where, where the past, the present, and the future,

can be summed in one short word.

Life is wanting something too far from your grasp and reach.

Life is a legendary story, no person or book can teach.

(1969 – by Cheryl Roma Yarek. I was 9-years old when I wrote this poem.)

CHANGE
Necrotic narcissism
and septic sociopathy
and malignant megalomania
are symptoms of a sick society.

In solidarity, brothers and sisters arise
to catalyze sweeping social reform.
With this proactive demand for change
a level playing field will become the norm.

From my most unbreakable certainty, I worship my most
visceral doubt, the legacy of death, day by day, in
seconds that drag on through my time, and to his
throne, now I am attentive, now I am careless

Death seems fair to me, it does not segregate, by any
race and age, in the most remote of places it is
projected

For any moment, it will be postulated in front of my
orbit, in front of yours, it will be made available,
it will have to be made unavoidable before the chosen
one.

It can be apotheotic, like that, well, still, who will
know, will be shy

It will make it heartbreaking, intense, the most
intrinsic of my pains, of your pains

It will amputate the presence, in a cutting act it
will empty the heart of hope and fill it with an
incognito and opaque void.

It will make us think about an envelope of revolt,
fear, anguish

Thus, it will be divinely strenuous, and will
sovereignly provide us with the most infamous of the
factors consigned to death, the warlike questioning
that kills us in responses that do not embrace, that
do not shut up, that do not stroke

As sad as dying is seeing someone in love die in
death.

You only show me your light
but never your darkness.

What are you afraid of?

Tell me your darkest secrets
and I promise you,
I will never leave.

Open up your mind
no need to hide,
I want to see.

What are you afraid of?

No need to stress
about the mess,
in your mind.

I will wipe away your tears
no need to fear,
it’ll take time.

What are you afraid of?

all my memories have gone sour
snakes and ravens in my ear
I’m traveling a thousand miles an hour
but not getting anywhere

I keep dreaming of disaster
that sounds fun, but what comes after
angels free falling from the sky
I like that, don’t ask me why

lithium rainbows in my brain
all my thoughtgrams smell the same
my generation’s all screwed up
please put a dollar in my cup

this is the end my friends
we’ll all be swimming soon
to the receding shoreline
riding a nuclear typhoon

the honeymoon is over
time for the cosmic bus
straight to the moon Alice
no growing old for us

broken dreams of green are endless
politics of dreams are friendless
greed’s our credo, waste it all
oil us up and watch us fall

we’re traveling on a one way journey
to the techno demons, we impart
addictions to electronic passions
building firewalls around our hearts

if music is the food of life
technology is the breath of death
will our children still be playing
Nintendo and X box with their last breath

we share, we care, yet go on smoking
we’re all such great pretenders
end of times we are evoking
to the Kardashians we’ve surrendered

there’s no future in our eyes
Prozac and ham for breakfasts
red tide oceans, ashen skies
having hope today is reckless