Poetry

7 Beat Poems

Photo: Philip Watts. CC-BY-NC-ND
How I became free

Of you and your pretentious requirements that stared at me
Like an eligibility section of a job advertisement,
Like random words in European languages, that you wanted me to use
One each in every poem, to get them published in journals of repute.
How I became free
How I became free of 
your small talk, your manipulative aesthetic that bored me like a yawn.
Your friends who snoop and nose 'round the writers and editors and their private lives
and their private parts, the colour of their skin, searching for a perfect dinner banter.
Who hallucinate and reach nirvana at the mention of
your ugliness, your self-boasting expertise
And your vicious worm like living within us, 
wishing we face 
every bit of the evil you bring 
through this very conceit.
How I became free.
How I became free of your synthetic diction play,
Your unimpressive similes that fail to stay
Like planks without soul,
Sold to the edifice 
Of a structure, like your omnipresence 
That will someday ensure 
Your irrelevance.

Inability 
I fail to articulate
like always
that

this losing light,
this disappearing day
leaves every tree, being,
every non-living thing
as cold as your hate.

On the bus from Metro

A shadow of a shadow of a shadow
A reflection of a reflection
Cars and vehicles move
Torsos, heads and hands
Apparitions
At different pace and sizes
Now further,
Near,
Gone.

Lights can pass like city nights
Meanings illuminate,
Longing, numbness
Love and forgetfulness
A rush of blood
Heave
             Rises up
             from the rumbles of ridicule
jealousy, small talk
Snoopy              elastic rumours
Like       stretchable      gums
Like concretes that spike up

Through our miseries
Skin and rain

Faces move, patchy roads
Inertia, breaks.

May the body remain unwashed
By the wetness of their visions of our reality
May the reality remain unwashed
By the wetness of their idea of our body
May the troubles be swallowed every morning after the rage
May the pain givers collide, infest
May we breathe in their smog and breathe out their fiction.
No conviction in this brothel
Of the word and syntax
Now remain.

Loving is breathing.

You do not have to exist.
You do not have to know.
It grows through your absence.
It grows through your storm.
You are not needed.
You are not to be worshipped.
The lack of you becomes you.

Loving is breathing.
It comes out and goes in.
You are not there, nowhere.
You do not have to be somewhere.
This sheer meagerness of you becomes you.

Love is just breathing.
Breathing songs we culled together.
For us to hold on to each other
Till our clichéd forever
Turned into a road that never,
Never rained into a song.

Pushkar 2017

Thousands of bodies move into a dreadlocked dream
A thousand heads like the sea
A thousand thoughts, a thousand desires
Lanes that get lost in dry lonesomeness, cheap hotels
Coughing, sniffing, waiting, falling into sleep
Flowing into the great white lake
Eyes without tears, ears without belief
I look through her mind 
From the stairs that lead to the water
Through these parched hillocks of stones and time
A body of a thousand bodies
A mind for a thousand imagination
Soil, skin, teeth, feet, a murmur, 
Lips, busy streets, limbs, chin, bikes,
Empty shops, my mind.
I disintegrate 
Into grains. 
I become the sand.
And count my days
To get back here again.

Scan

Look within
Gather your ugliness
Measure it
Count the countable,
Analyze the liquids
Gather your follies

You may use droppers,
Test them on acid,
Glass test tubes,
Private laboratories.

Warm them
Bring them to boil

Grieve
Fumble
Feel uncomfortable,
Wretched
Done!
Scale your inabilities

Let these clothes never fit in
Let yourself feel naked a little

Evaporate
Eliminate, illuminate

Count the countable,
Analyze the liquids
Measure it.

Thanksgiving
(After William S Burroughs)


Thank you for all that is not
Thank you. Thank you for the words,
The air and the water.
Thank you numbness that runs through my veins
Thank you blood, bones, destruction.
Thank you dystopia. Thank you end of the world.
Thank you, friends. Thank you, lovers.
Thank you hunger, trickery, loss of ideals and faith.
Thank you. Thank you, death.
Thank you, haters. Thank you traitors.
Thank you restless allegiance of ultimate doom.
Thank you meaninglessness.
Thank you lack of words.
Thank you,
Thank you, this torture.