Incubus

  
Incubus
 
I have spoken, I have written – of the madness that afflicts us.
And I’m one among the millions, who have noted that we’re mad.
But still there’s no abatement. The fever hasn’t peaked.
And what is the prognosis? The answer is, “It’s bad.”
 
For an illness not resisted, of the body or the mind,
Can be one that turns to lethal. Should we let the patient die?
Should he suffer in his torment, unnoticed till he’s dead?
Should we cover up his torture – and his corpus, with a lie?
 
For the patient is no other than our species – and the world.
And the seed may be from Nature, but it’s found a soil in us.
And its growth is ugly, monstrous – and it’s choking all the rest.
It’s an illness that’s devouring – and its vectors – they are us.
 
There is madness, in our culture, that has entered in our blood.
Insanity’s the driver that has brought the world to this –
That the sane among us sicken, as they see what has been wrought
By the god whose name is “Mammon” and is “Madness” – with a hiss.
 
The hissing of a serpent is a warning to the one
That might tread upon its body.  But the sibilant that ends
The name of “Mammon-Madness” is the hissing sound of death,
For it tells of dread affliction – and of horrors, it portends…
 
Will we fight off the infection – will the fever peak and pass?
We cannot know the answer, we can only pray and hope.
Is there treatment for the illness – are there those, who know the cure?
We do not know the answers – we can only try to cope.
   
But the toll it takes is heavy – on us humans and the rest.
So I write again of madness, of the all-devouring kind,
That has coupled fierce with money and has made the evil spawn
That is eating up the planet and is feeding on the Mind.
 
I have seen him in a vision, as he went about his task.
For this monster has a mission, as its devotees may know.
And the purpose of this being?  That’s a question we may ask,
As the answer may be screeching in the demon-winds that blow.
   
2014  October 31st, Fri.
Brooklyn, New York 
 

Decompression

  
Decompression
 
When you’re hassled and you’re harried,
And you’ve hurried through the day,
And you’re seeking salve or solace
That will soothe your stress away –
  
Then it’s time to get a cuppa –
As the British like to say –
Or a coffee or a tipple
That will end your working day.
  
But be timid with the tipple
That might lead to two or three,
And be cautious with the coffee,
If of “nerves” you would be free.
  
It is better, after resting,
With your feet up, with a tea,
To go walking, as if leisure
Were a right for you and me.
    
And if you’re in a city,
And to stand and stare is safe,
There are people, who are passing,
And the stores, at which to gape.
    
And there’s even in the alleys
The ever-changing sky –
And if, perchance, you’re lucky,
There are branches, spreading high…
   
2014 October 30th, Thu.
Dunkin Donuts, 79th Street & 17th Ave.
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York
 

Cosmos

    
Cosmos
 
There was silence, there was singing, there was darkness, there was light.
There was waking, there was dreaming, there was danger and delight.
There was presence, there was absence, there was hoping and despair.
There was wounding, there was healing, there was damage and repair.

There was birth and there was dying, there was living in between.
There was pain and there was pleasure, there were things that were unseen.
There was tasting, there was scenting, there was feeling, there was heart,
There was mind and there was matter, there was science, there was art.

******
   
And all of this was there then, that is vanished now and gone,
In that world that we were born in, on that planet we were on.
What is left is still the spirit, that is waiting for rebirth
On a planet that is spinning, on its orbit, like the Earth.

On that planet, in the cosmos that is timeless, that is vast,
Will the beings there remember, what had happened in the past?
Will the harsher sides of Nature, will the horrors, will the wars
Be remembered or repeated – as on Venus, as on Mars?
 
******
   
Is there silence on the mountain, is there quiet in the dale?
In the forests that are lifeless, is there one to tell the tale
Of what happened on our planet, that is swinging ‘round its sun?
But hark – the wind is singing.  And listen – waters run.

In their time, the fields will blossom, and the valleys will be green.
And the lovers then will wander, in the seasons soft, serene.
They will gaze up at the planets, at the brightly shining moon.
It will happen, it will happen.  But it will not happen soon.

******
 
And who will be the beings that will couple in the dark?
Will the skies of day have fliers that will soar on high and arc?
Will the grazers then be tripeds that were never there before?
Will the oceans then have beings that have music, that have lore?
 
How wondrous is the cosmos that is spirit, that is dirt,
Where the stars are distant beacons and yet lovers gently flirt,
Where there’s naught that isn’t passing and where love and flowers bloom,
Where the beings rise and vanish, so that others may have room…
   
2014 October 30th, Thu., 3:01 am
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York
  

The Chant

 
The Chant
 
I heard the singing in the dawn, when the mist had not yet risen,
And dreaming in my bed, there came to me a wondrous vision –
I saw a line of women, on a sylvan mountain way –
And even from afar, I saw that line appeared to sway.
  
For the women, they were singing and were dancing as they went –
I could hear them sweetly singing, and the song was heaven-sent –
I could see the women dancing as they walked upon their way –
As the mist was slowly rising and the twilight turned to day.
 
I heard the singing in my dream, and woke to find the light
Was spreading in the eastern sky, as day was chasing night…
And was I only dreaming – or had truly heard the chant
Of the women on the mountain?  I could answer – but I shan’t.
 
2014 October 27th, Mon.
Brooklyn, New York
 

The Winter Comes – II

 
The Winter Comes – II
 
We age, we falter, lose our strength and die.
And some of us may idly wonder why.
But each of us, in this, have little choice –
These truths persist – that many would deny.
 
And some escape, awhile, the costs of age,
And when they see they can’t, they’re filled with rage –
And others may accept them, noting death
And all that comes before, with mindsets sage…

The leaf will yellow, wither then and fall –
And death, in time, will issue each its call,
For everyone that’s born, in turn, will die –
So aging, sickness, death, await us all…

While walking slowly once beside the sea,
I entered in a sort of reverie –
And thought I heard a voice, speaking low…
And this is what that spirit said to me –

“Oh live the life you’re given and rejoice,
Be grateful for your blessings, giving voice
To gratitude – in speech and in your deeds,
For in these things we still have each a choice.”

I listened then – and ever since, I’ve tried,
Despite the blow, despite the chance denied
That came so many times, to me and those
I knew and loved, to still be gratified…

For death has never held for me, the dread
That others might perceive in it, and yet
So many things are still unkempt and will,
I know, remain undone when I am dead.

And those, for whom the winds of chance have laid,
On me, a duty, though I’m disarrayed –
I would not leave them prey to woes that I,
By minding duty, could perhaps have stayed…

We age, we sicken, lose our health, descend,
As others then neglect or condescend...
And some, perhaps, might lend a helping hand –
Or not.  We struggle, lonely, till the end.

But walking on the street, in autumn, I
Can see the leaves, that one by one, will die,
Upon the trees – and strewn along the street.
Who grieves for them?  And who dares wonder why?

The conifers are green throughout the year.
With antifreeze evolved, they need not fear
The seasons cold.  But even they will pass  –
And who, for a fallen pine, will shed a tear?

Ah – life and death, like yang and yin entwined…
Who knows, whence life arises, whence the mind –
And where they go, when autumn’s winds have blown?
The winter comes. Take solace – and be kind…

For when we’re gone, the freezing winds will blow
And cover then the remnant leaves with snow.
But in its time, there’ll also be the spring –
And little birds will sing, as grasses grow…
 
2014 October 26th, Sun., 2:12 pm
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York
  

Dua, Insaan Ko–दुआ, इनसान को (A Prayer – to Mortals)

  
The Hindi-Urdu text below (in Devanagari script) is followed by a loose translation into English and then by a transcription into Roman.  As my Hindi and Urdu are both weak, any corrections or suggestions would be welcome.  -- Arjun

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दुआ, इनसान को
 
इस्लामियत को ढूंढ़ते हुए,
इन्सानियत को खोना मत।
 
हिन्दुत्व को गढ़ते हुए,
मानव-धर्म को तोड़ना मत।
 
यहोवा या यीशु के नाम से,
खून-खराबी करना मत।
 
पैसे या नाम का धन्धा मे,
सचाई और दिल को भूलना मत।
 
शनिवार, २५ अक्टूबर २०१४ ईस्वी
ब्रुकलिन, न्यूयॉर्क
  
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A Prayer – to Mortals
 
In search of an Islamic state,
Do not, a being’s rights, negate.
 
With Aryan yearnings in your mind,
You still have reason to be kind.
  
In the name of Yahweh or of Jesus,
With murderous evil, do not smite us.
 
To fame or fortune, while en route,
Remember still the heart – and truth.
   
2014  October 25th, Sat.
(translated November 1st, Sat.)
Brooklyn, New York

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Dua, Insaan Ko
  
Islaamiyat ko d'huun'r'hte hue,
insaaniyat ko khona mat.

Hindutva ko gar'hte hue,
maanav-dharm ko tor'na mat.
  
Yehova ya yiixu ke naam se,
khuun-kharaabi karna mat.

Paise ya naam ka dhandha me,
sacaai aur dil ko bhuulna mat.
      
xanivaar, 25 akt'ubar 2014 iisvi.
bruklin, nyu yo`rk
  

The Mirror

 
The Mirror
 
The little girl who skipped in pigtails turned
to a maiden, blooming then in beauty, grace –
and then to a woman, married – soon with child –
and so to a mother – with a mother’s work
as well as that which earned the needed wage…
She worked her shifts, as women long have done…
 
Her face and body changed, as did her mind –
as worries grew – and satisfactions small
were countered by frustrations – small and large...
And gazing in the mirror now, she sees
that little girl, that maiden, then the wife –
the mother too – and wonders what comes next.
  
2014 October 25th, Sat.
2nd floor, McDonald’s restaurant
86th Street & 20th Avenue
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York