Saturday, October 2, 2010

A Dancing Bear

Oh! My beautiful dancing bear
What have they done to you?
I remember when you danced free
Pirouetting through the forest
Like a ballet dancer
Graceful and agile
Thick, luxuriant coat, gleaming eyes
A confident demeanour

Then they came – they took you
You’re freedom gone forever
Trapped in a concrete enclosure
You sway and pace with lack-lustre eyes
My heart breaks

Children watch with fascination
They don’t know what it was you came from –
A paradise where you were free
Now a butterfly trapped in a spider’s web – my beautiful
Dancing bear
In the hands of humans I cry for you
And wish your death to come quickly
You would be better off
Yes, better off!

Monday, August 23, 2010

Hey You People

I'm quite used to it now;
not knowing what's around.

It is not all that hard,
wondering how great having
working pair of legs would be.

It's not so strange anymore -
Thinking why can't I talk and hear.

It doesn't seem unfair any longer;
while thinking only I can't read and write.

Its not painful to be seen strangely -
for being insane.

but people,

I can't get used to the news -
of wars and destruction;
even though you could
see the world and its beauty!

Its hard to believe
that you all run into fights
with those marvelous feet.

It's still really strange
Why you use that
amazing voice to abuse and provoke.
And why you think with your ears and not the brain.

And I wonder how fair it is!?
When all the knowledge you have
is to only  think about mass destruction!

And it funnily feels painful -
seeing you with all the sanity;
how you all want to be the center of the universe.

Hey you people...

Would you ever realize
what kind of boon you were born with!?
with every organ in the right place..
and with every sense working without doubt!

And yet all you cause is mayhem.
All you love is destruction.

Would you even see -
how beautiful life is?

With all that you've got,
and with all that you could do.

And yet all you do is hate
and all you love is death.

hey you nutters,

nature doesn't believe in second chances.

You don't need to wipe out tears out of some helpless eyes.
But just try not to make them cry anymore.

Shame as it may seem;
but you're just another creature.

The only difference is that,
you're losing all your left out emotions.
Day by day you're turning
to a living corpse.

Think while you still can.
Live when you have life in you.

Because when we're all gone -
There wont be any
to marvel how great your conquests were.

Right now you have it all.
It's just now and never ever.

More on Words and Life

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Life...

It's hollow, it's empty.

It's calm and it's serene.

It's peaceful but it's strange.

It's this  part of the mind,

that I hardly explore.

As I stand in this unscathed hill,

with only the breeze and the drizzling shower,

as I let my brain sleep

on my mind's arms.

With just trees and hills to see,

as I stand on this cliff,

the air pushing me with all the aggression,

I realize that

It's this part of the universe,

parallel to this part of the mind,

I find myself.

This is me, The son of nature talking

to all of the world

Brothers of mine out there,

listen to the voice

You ought to find yourself someday.

Find yourself to live.

Because all you do is survive.

And that

is not life.


Words and LIfe

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Lost Love

Something is wrong: what secret are you hiding?
Distance stretches between us long, wide
I can see it in your eyes
Feel it in your voice
All passion has blown away
A tornado spent
Leaving emptiness in its wake
I touch you and you turn away
Your body as cold as stone
My heart breaks
Silence severs two souls who were as one
Now separated by secret things
Is there something I have or have not done?
I wonder as fear spreads
Through my being chilling my bones
Uncertainty, worthlessness envelops me
Loneliness has become my companion
Is someone else receiving what was mine?
I grieve for what was and no longer is
What truths are you hiding from me?
In your heart’s secret place

Thursday, January 28, 2010

On A Sunday At The Beach

The sky is cloudless, sun beating on a jewel sea
Waves lap lazily onto fine, white sand
The saltiness of the sea fills the air awakening the senses
And a pelican sits, upon a rock rising up from the sea
He surveys the humans with one eye
While watching with the other for his dinner to swim by
On a Sunday at the beach

Man-made sun-shelters dot the beach like igloos in a desert
Children smiling, laughing, emerge from within
Hats on heads, painted with zinc, smothered in sunscreen
As if ready for a corroboree rather than a day by the sea
They scamper to the water’s edge


Mums sit in their igloos, keepers of sustenance and all belongings
Watching with eyes like eagles their children playing, paddling, swimming
Dads help build sand-castles, works of art, amazing sculptures
And teach their children to swim
Sea-weed swirls in the shallows around the youngster’s ankles
They scream in terror of hidden sea-monsters lurking in its midst

Sea-shells are collected in buckets to be taken home
Only to become smelly and thrown away
Sea-gulls screech overhead, waiting, hoping for leftover sandwiches and cake
A dog chases - barking; they fly away
Then circle back still waiting, hoping for food

People lie on the sand falling asleep, cooking in the sun
Being baked brown like a Sunday roast dinner – foolish people!
And local teenage boys play a cricket match
Showing off their muscular, tanned, young bodies to giggling, bikini-clad girls

An ice-cream van, bell clanging, pulls into the car-park above the beach
Children come running as teenagers saunter with money in hands for their treats
Melting in the hot sun, icecreams hurriedly eaten, drip down fronts and over hands

Gusts of wind blow in from the sea; whipping up frothy waves
Bringing with them a chill as shadows start to lengthen
Signalling the day nearly over
And so the exodus to the city and suburbs begins

Parents pull down their igloos and pack up belongings
Tired, sandy, sun burnt children with their collections of shells and such treasures
Climb into their cars to sleep the long journey home
Sun-bakers awake from their sleep red, sore, thirsty
They too return to their cars
Local teenagers walk home still showing off, still giggling


Cars crawl bumper to bumper like a giant caterpillar along the highway
Slowly returning home
Monday morning brings work and school, with all week to remember
What a great day was spent
On Sunday at the beach




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