The Muse

There exists a universe where I'm known as Lima. You aren't allowed there.
There exists another universe in which Lima walks. You are already here.
You have entered because you can appreciate style while ignoring content. You had been warned.
P.S. Don't bash me up if you find haiku or plain prose here.

Saturday, September 5, 2015

स्वयं विधाता

शिव - गौरी के चौसड़ के खेल में
हम गोटी नहीं खिलाड़ी हैं
करमजोग के जो है पुजारी 
पूजें उन्हें त्रिपुरारी है

Sunday, January 18, 2015

Politic

Judge me, for my utility,
Engage with me, accordingly,
But know that I still have my own place,
In this impartial universe,
And you may hate, my existence,
(Or love it, or be indifferent)
But if you raise an eye at me,
Be prepared for my answering glance.

(#IAmNotCharlie #GoesBothWays)

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Asynjor

Dominae, dominated thou art,
By the four laws of the multiverse.
Thou favour and scorn on thy whim,
Thy touch is both blessing and curse.
 
Devi, Devas lust after thee,
Their brothers fare no better.
But thou who art loyal to none,
Find thy fickle heart in a fetter.

Theá, thorny is the way,
Of those who would ignore thee,
Thou art denied by none but thyself,
I beg thee! Don't deny me.

Notes

4 laws:

  1. Mortality - All that begins will have an end
  2. Vulnerability - If you have a head, you will have a headache
  3. Mutability - Change is the only constant
  4. Love - Love will conquer all

Friday, September 12, 2014

Gravel - Part I

Hail! Samarkand, end of all roads
Proud abode of the great and good
Light of the desert, sight for sore eyes
Balm to the weary of heart and foot.

The sun sets on Her pearly domes
And shatters into a million lights
Her bazaars fill with men and wares
Her gardens with all earthly delights.

As they walk past Her blessed gates
Both men and beasts sigh in relief
For the day's journey has come to an end
And tomorrow is but a distant dream.

Among this throng of travellers
Is a Viking of the Russian tribe
And a Moroccan and a Chinaman
With a hundred more of every stripe.

They marvel at the sights and sounds
And enjoy the moonlit scented breeze
They plod along the winding lanes
In search of a meal and a place of ease.

Between the palm-lined cobbled streets
Runs a lonely dark gravel-lined lane
It harbours nought but a lonely inn
At whose door stood our heroes fain.

Well met good Sirs, the innkeeper said
Please step over my humble threshold
But the price of my hospitality
Mark thee! Is not to be paid in gold.

A tale I seek from each of you
In exchange for victuals and rest
As long as you can entertain me
Your honours can remain my guest.

Though puzzled by this clause unique
They entered and sat at his table
And as soon as their meal was done
The Moroccan began his fable.

Friday, June 13, 2014

Lovecraft Country

Having despoiled the old habitat till the earth screamed 'Begone!',
They look to new pastures for their tribes…
And the graves of the vanquished become the foundations of the towers of the victors..
For the soil is always fertilized by the blood of the slain, and the rivers dammed by their corpses…
'Tis but a pipe dream of some indifferent Deity…
It has no meaning save that which we give it.

Having befouled their native loam
Until it turned to salt and sand
They gather their kin and roam
The earth in search of virgin land

Armed and tooled they walk and run
Or sail or ride the beast and tides
They bring with them both Gods and men
And make foes of everyone besides

But when they are broken by their own wheel
And what is not barren no longer bare
The lands of others they seek to steal
And in their greed no effort spare

Thus do mighty nations stand
On the graves of those who fell
Their blood and flesh fertilize the land
Their bones arrest the rivers' swell

This world alas is but a pipe dream
Of some indifferent Omnipotent
It follows neither rule nor scheme
Save what we might find immanent