Reading between the lines
That space between the linesRemains mute for mostLike a feast where nothing is served. Those who can, willSee a cache of blood-stained knivesAnd say: It is well-deserved. There can be barbed wiresGently palming and calmingDesperation that wants to escape. Or incomplete picturesOf nearly forgotten treksThrough the human landscape. That space between the linesSometimes needsA closer...
This happens everyday
I pick-up newspapers and collar them inSkip what they call news or even viewsTo chart slogans and captions that winAttentions of many to cart-off their blues!Once this is done, it is time for funTo see how atmanirbhar we are nowOr the ways devised for real poribortanAnd everything else from Nifty to Dow.This happens each day...
Being an angel is risky business
Dancing angels aren’t always angelicWhat they do can be idylls that are sickEven Satan can writeOr paint with insight…Agree or he may come to prod you with a stick! True, said the angels, and then go in a huddleAnd dance on their heads until in a muddleOf wayward thoughtsOf dashes and dots.Their emojis, for us,...
Haruki Murakami waited for angels to dance on his head
Knock! Knock! And he slowly shuffled to the doorAnd through the glass pane at the top, sawSomeone with an evil grin, and said: Sure,But I’m also unsure and by my own lawWill not allow you in. As this guy went out for a run, he heardAnother knock and they came one after the otherSometimes trampling...
