No Verses

 
No Verses
.
So many verses written—scribbled, typed,
And posted, sent to others far away.
So many more that come at times to mind—
From where—and wherefore—who can truly say?
.
Adrift upon the stream, we near the sea
And hear, afar, the waves that crash and roar.
We sense the dark—the endless, waiting deep.
No verses there—or minds—for evermore.
.
******
.
The dawn that once brought hope now brings despair
As tens of thousands die—or wish they could—
As those who live are filled with grief and pain—
And most, who witness, now have understood
.
That evil often triumphs, laying waste
To all that’s good and precious: tenderness
And quietude—and love and due respect—
As Mammon grins and profits from duress. 
.
****** 
.
How many are the ones who've died in waves,
As lands were conquered or were laid to waste, 
As guns and bombs replaced the clubs and swords,
And Greed and Fear infected all with haste?
.
I hear the children laugh; I hear them weep.
I hear the dying, burned and blasted, moan.
I fear departure, leaving those I know
To fend for selves, with others, or alone.
.
****** 
.
But who among us chooses time or place
To enter or to exit from the stage
On which we walk and act and say our words—
And then depart—at ripe or tender age?
.
The dusk, descending, whispers now of night,
And I will venture out, beneath the stars,
To breathe and try to find a passing peace,
As all around delight in distant wars.
.
****** 
.
So many verses written—scribbled, typed,
And posted, sent to others far away.
So many more that come at times to mind—
From where—and wherefore—who can truly say?
.
Adrift upon the stream, we near the sea
And hear, afar, the waves that crash and roar.
We sense the dark—the endless, waiting deep.
No verses there—or minds—for evermore.
.
2024 October 3rd & 5th.
Berkeley, California
.

Truth and Justice

  
Truth and Justice
 
In each of us there is a sense, innate,
Of fairness, just as each of us can sense
Another’s feelings—almost like our own.
And some of us, at least, have always sought
The truth, discarding comfort based on lies.
 
So empathy and truth and justice—each 
Have always been of worth to humankind—
And every script revered appeals to these,
With words like these in treasured texts inscribed.
And yet, injustice reigns—along with lies.
 
****** 
 
And why is this? Some say the cause is greed 
For wealth and power, each supporting each.
And surely these are drives with low regard
For kindness, truth or justice, but there are
Some other causes too, including these—
 
Our ignorance, our fear, our apathy,
And all our history of lords and kings—
The weeding out of those who dared to speak
Or act against the rule of clubs and swords, 
And now the jails of jobs—and rains of bombs.
 
****** 
 
What gain is there in life for those who seek
For truth, for those who see another’s pain,
And those who strive for equity for all?
The gain is more of persecution, pain—
And yet they try, and fail, and try again.
 
Observe the ones who speak against the lie.
Behold the ones resisting, those who die—
Behold their courage and observe their faith.
One might believe in justice after death,
Another not—yet both believe in right.
 
2024, May 14th, Tue.
Berkeley, California
 

Progoti-প্রগতি

 
প্রগতি
 
 প্রগতির গান গাইছো তুমি—
 নতুন যুগের জয়।
 নিষ্ঠুরতার অন্ত কোথায়?
 জীবের চোখে ভয়।
 বোমার ঝড়ে ঝাঁকছে ভূমি,
 কাঁপছে শিশু, হায়!
 
 মা-বাবা যে কোথায় গেলো!
 কোথায়, দিদি-দাদা?
 এই প্রগতির দাপট দেখে,
 ভাসছে চোখে ধাঁধা।
রাত পোহালো, প্রভাত এলো।
ধুঁকছে, রক্ত মেখে।

এই প্রগতির উগ্র প্রচার 

হচ্ছে যতই দেশে,

গানের ধ্বনি উঠছে জেগে 

ততই তীব্র ক্লেশে।

 
 রবিবার, ১০ মার্চ, ২০২৪ খ্রি.
 বার্ক্লি, ক্যালিফর্নিয়া.
 
 

The People of the Lie

 
The People of the Lie

They feel that they can kill and lie—
And lie and kill again,
For anyone who dares resist
This terror is a “terrorist”.

Their aim is to erase, delete
A culture and a people, yes.
They claim that they are, everywhere,
Forever under constant threat.

They think that they can terrorize
And cheat and steal and lie,
For they control the ones who seem
To rule—another lie!

They desecrate and they destroy.
They look on others with contempt.
They burn and blast and bury babies, 

Saying, “We are civilized.”

And who then are these people? Why,
They’re just like you and me, my friend,
For truth and justice call—and yet,
We find our comfort in the lie.

 
2024, February 9th, Fri.
Berkeley, California

ভীতি-২০২২-১১-১৯

 
ভীতি (২০২২-১১-১৯)
 
খুশির সঙ্গে ব্যথা কিছু,
চাহনার সঙ্গে ভয়—
এমন জোড়ায়, জীবন যাপন
সাধ্য-সম্ভব হয়।
 
ব্যথা যাদের লাগে না, তাদের
অঙ্গ খসে পড়ে।
ভয় যারা পায় না, তারা
সবার আগে মরে।
 
অবিরামের ব্যথা তবে,
অবিরামের ভয়—
দেহে-মনে, জীবন ধরে,
সহনীয় নয়।
 
******
 
একজন যাতে দাঁড়িয়ে লড়ে,
আরেক তাতে ছোটে।
একের সাহস, অন্যের ভীতি—
কোথার থেকে জোটে?
 
তাই দেখো, কেউ খতরে চলে,
ভয় করে না, মরতে।
কি খোরাকে সাহস তার-ই,
যে জানেনা, ডরতে?
 
বৃদ্ধ যেমন ভয়তে ভরা,
তেমনি কোনো নবীন।
ভয়ের কারণ কি যে—সেটা
বুঝতে পারা কঠিন।
 
******
 
জীবন-পথে যখন একা,
বিপদে অস্ত্রহীন,
মনে হয় তখন, শঙ্কার চোটে,
দেহ শক্তিহীন।
 
আছে কি কোনো ওষুধ-দওয়াই —
ভীতির রোগের ভোজ?
সস্তা হোক, বা যতই দামি—
করা যায় কি খোঁজ?
 
স্বাসের ধ্যান। ব্যামের সাফাই।
কীর্তন গেয়ে মুক্তি।
প্রতি প্রথায়, শান্তির খোঁজের
ধারার সাথে যুক্তি।
 
******
 
যেটা করার, সেটা করা—
এটাও মূলে আছে।
এই শিল্পের দখল পেলে,
শান্তি বুকে আসে।
 
বাকির সাথে, কি পাওয়া যায়,
পথের দিনে-রাতে?
ক্ষতির চোটের শিক্ষা বটে,
দুঃখ, ভীতির সাথে।
 
এদের থেকে না পালিয়ে,
সহযাত্রী ব’লে,
মুখের দিকে তাকিয়ে তাদের,
বসাতে হয় কোলে।
 
শনিবার, ১৯ অক্টোবর, ২০২২ খ্রি.
ব্রুক্লিন, নিউ ইয়র্ক
 

Fear-2022-11-17

 
Fear (2022-11-17)
 
As pain is needed, so is fear—
Or else we’d all be dead.
But chronic pain is hard to bear—
And so is chronic dread.
 
What causes one to stand and fight—
And makes another flee?
What gives a person courage, strength—
And bends another’s knee?
 
So some are filled with bravery—
And even risk their lives.
We do not know what food it is
On which this courage thrives.
 
And some are cowards through their lives—
And some in later age.
The reasons for the cowardice
Are often hard to gauge.
 
We each may find ourselves alone
And faced with what’s ahead—
Without the tools to save ourselves—
Or paralyzed with dread.
 
Is there a potion or a pill
To rid oneself of fear?
Can this be cheaply bought—or is
The price-tag far too dear?
 
There’s breathing and there’s exercise—
And ways of calming mind
And body, both. For those who seek
These aren’t hard to find.
 
There also is the discipline—
The core, essential art
Of doing what needs doing that
Can serve to ease the heart.
 
But truly, there’s no remedy
That gives, for long, relief—
Except for what is gained through loss
And facing fear and grief.
 
2022 November 17, Thu.
Brooklyn, New York
 

Crushed

Crushed     
    
When faced with all the madness of our times—
the racing, debt and isolation, some
succumb to fear and then are paralyzed—
or else they run, bewildered, through their years. 

But others, savvier, can learn the game
and play it shrewdly to attain their ends.
And these become, quite often, those who herd
and drive the others, stepping up the pace.

******
  
Until we free ourselves, we’re doomed to be
as cogs upon the wheels of fear and greed.
But when we try to struggle loose, we find
we’re crushed—as would a cog that’s not of steel. 
  
It’s only when the juggernaut is slowed,
as one by one we see and we resist—
it’s only then that we at last can be,
from this, our ceaseless whirling bondage, free.

2015 August 6th, Thu. 6:15 pm
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York

-----------------------------------------------------------

Note:  Three pictures follow.  You can click on any one to see all three in a gallery.  The second image will be enlarged, the third even more. Click on the white X at the top right of the black background to return to the post.

At the end of the post are links to some clips from the film "Modern Times", in which Charlie Chaplin's character attempts to fit into the industrial age.  I might add more as I find them.
-----------------------------------------------------------

Time
https://www.eskimo.com/~recall/bleed/0911.htm

Joining the Labor Force
http://www.newstatesman.com/sci-tech/2014/08/new-luddites-why-former-digital-prophets-are-turning-against-tech

Chariot Wheel, Konarak Temple, Orissa, India.   Patrik M. Loeff, 2008
https://www.flickr.com/photos/bupia/2320134539/in/photostream/

Clips from Chaplin's movie Modern Times

1) a short clip (14:43) with excellent clarity of picture and sound:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tfw0KapQ3qw

  

2) a very short clip (1:49) on a central episode in 1, with picture quality not the best:

http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x1sgls_modern-times-1936_fun 

3) Modern Times (1936)—the full movie (1:23:17)—but with speech dubbed in French:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_jLHVT0-GgM

  

What?

 
What?

I ventured out at twilight and I saw, beside the lake,
Where the woods were dark, and the water light,
What seemed to be, perhaps—
A man…

I’d seen a figure small—no more, in height, than just a child,
Walking, in the shadows of the woods
And out, where I could see—
And back.

And as I watched, across the lake, I saw it turn and look.
I froze—and when it saw me, so did it.
And time—and everything—
Stood still.

And then, it turned and went into the woods!  I stood and stared.
I felt a shiver, running down my back.
And so I turned—and ran—
And ran!

I only stopped when I was out of breath and far away
From where I’d seen what seemed to be a man.
But really, what was it?
A ghost?

I panted, bent and held my knees. I tried to catch my breath.
But then, before I could, I ran again—
Away, away, not looking
Back.

And I was lost by then, upon a field—and it was dark.
But when at last I stopped, I felt again
That tingle on my skin—
And turned.

It wasn’t there—it wasn’t there!  I felt a great relief.
I took a breath of air.  I almost laughed,
But couldn’t, lacking breath.
I sat.

The moon was out—a crescent, hanging low—and stars.
And as I watched, the sky was filled with them.
They twinkled, and it seemed
They laughed.

I rose up then and slowly sought to find my way towards home.
But still I knew I should avoid that place
Where I had seen it stare
At me.

On getting home, I quickly shuttered doors and windows tight.
I lit the lamp and saw, through window glass,
Its twin.  I could not see
Outside.

And when I crept in bed, beneath the quilt, I shivered still.
I hardly slept, and woke in sudden fear,
For every sound, it seemed,
Was it.

And so, I told myself, “You cannot sleep, except in bits.
You toss and turn. You wake and start at sounds.
You’re anxious, full of fear—
Of what?”

But as I said that “what”, I felt, again, that shock. I saw
Those eyes that locked with mine, across the lake—
Those eyes, that seemed to be—
Of what?

“Oh nonsense!  What a stupid fool you are!  A coward too!
It was a man you saw—a little man,
Who also turned and fled—
From fear.”

And so I tried to scold myself.  I felt some comfort spread
From zones of reason to the rest.
I breathed a sigh and sought—
Some rest.

And when I woke again, the dawn was there.  And with that light
I felt that fear of darkness disappear.
It seemed, it was a dream
I’d had.

So I dismissed it then, and rose and went about my day.
But when the sunset neared, I felt unease.
I could not go towards
That lake.

So every night, I close my doors and windows tight.  And then
I eat my dinner and I try to sleep,
But often wake again
In fright.

I wonder, “What was it I saw, at dusk, across the lake,
That walked out from the woods?  It looked at me
And I at it and then—
I ran.”

I wonder, “Does it also fear, like me? And does it fear
The one it saw, across the lake, at dusk—
That great big one?
Does it?”

I sense an ebb of tension then.  I even laugh.  I feel
A passing pity for that little thing
That seemed to be a man—
Or what?

This doesn’t last. I say, “Tomorrow, I will go again
To stand, at dusk, beside that lake and gaze
across.”  But then, I know
I can’t.

2015 May 2nd, Tue.
Brooklyn, New York