CALVARY

We have seen our world for the twelfth time

And though we have changed it has not

We have searched all these aeons for Judas

For the kiss that we never have got

The last page of the life of a prophet

Is reserved for Iscariot to kiss

And it carries the pain and the sorrow

But also the glory and bliss

We have seen our rebellions in tea cups

And the future of the world in the leaves

And the cross that inhabits our visions

And the daggers concealed in the sleeves

We have sailed on the ocean of madness

We have docked upon sanity's shore

We have wallowed in the blood of our sadness

We have knocked upon vanity's door

We have walked on the hair to the heavens

We have swum in the pool of desire

We have danced to the thunder that deafens

We have penned our soul into fire

Yet, we never did find what we wanted

But the world, then, made up for the loss

Being convinced every prophet is haunted

Unbetrayed, we were stretched on the cross

And they wept as we hung in our silence

And the clouds brushed the top of the hill

It was done with no malice, no violence

Just a stone-hearted effort of will

And then we said "Father! Forgive them

For they know very well what they do

And can't help it for all that they know it

And despite that their love has been true."

Ignorance deserves not forgiveness

But it behoves us not to seek revenge

For events dictated by circumstance

That the mind cannot dare to challenge

And they stood on the hill till the silver

Had merged into black, and then gold

And then sealed in their bosoms forever

A bible that never shall be told

THE EAGLE STILL SOARS........

The eagle still soars in the summit of heaven

And watches the earth in descent

And we pay, as interest, day by day our lives

For the time death has to us lent

We replayed the thoughts of Mr. Eliot

And the verses of Lorca and Pound

Will our ruminations be thus honoured

Or dark silence devour our sound

And no finger press down on no button

No new eagle then tend to soar

And the earth then be tossed, on galactic waves

To a distant and lack-lustre shore

The eagle still soars in the summit of heaven

But now everywhere sees the debris of dreams

For our freedom's constraints have moved in on us now

On our thoughts and our bodies and voice

We are free, we can choose, but the question remains

It's not we that present us the choice

The avenue of eternal hope is lined

With tear-stained faces,

Hair on end

And horror at the nightmare

That freedom became

While the dream to be free

To be you, to be me

To be different, or same, to rhetoric confined.

The eagle still soars in the summit of heaven

Wondering who got away, and who did not

And who it was that suffered more

The rise of mankind's sword

Alexander, triumphant, arm aloft

Or the silent Gordian knot.

PIETA

I painted a smile

On a face that was sad

And hid 'neath a grimace

Disguised as a grin

Though the paint wore thin,

The anger within, not revealed.

The 'pieta' of love

Did not even withstand

One single year,

To oblivion was flung

Like victory turned sour

At the gate of triumph

And the palette, deserted, still bleeds.

It's better to create

Using canvas or stone

For a petrified smile

Will outlast flesh and bone

And all of the memories

In all of the hearts

And all of the minds

In all of the parts

Of the world do not make a 'pieta'.

THE SMILE ON YOUR FACE

The smile on your face

Melancholy;

Like a dust cloud on the horizon.

A shimmering haze

Or the veil of death

To cover the parting

Ways, or a breath

Of fiery passion turned to mist

By the icy touch of fact.

Or a cloud to mark

For a while the trail

Of a caravan looking for the holy grail;

Like a foot-print on wet sands of time,

Or a curtain rung down on the act.

THE PICTURE

Some see it stark, in black and white

And some in seductive shades of gray

Yet others say, it's made of light

And there are those who swear it's clay

Some silent in their knowledge stand

At dawn, beyond both night and day

And some in ecstatic ignorance

Swirl like dancing autumn leaves

Before the winds of circumstance

And blissful in existence, sway

Reflected do some see it on

The silvered mirror of polished thought

And some in the turmoil of the soul

When once the heart and mind have fought

Some behold its beauty in

The dark deep recess of your eyes

And some experience, stark, the terror

Screams that chill their blood to ice

Some see loving strokes, the canvas

Flesh on which the artist traced

His love and life and fear and pain

And pride and pity, both misplaced

Some see hate, and flames that rise

Majestic, headstrong, proud and bold

And some see pain and grief entwined

In strands of laughter, stark and cold

The universe is but a picture formed

In different shades of reality

That merge and mingle, mix and blend

All myriad roads to a common end

So all who see these various sights

Behold but what they believe to be

And believe that what they behold is true

But you see you, and I see me

MY NAME IS TIME, THE RIVER

I met this man in Babylon

While staring at the sand

I sat upon a grassy bank

Looked out across the land

His eyes were like the sunset

And his hair a wispy cloud

He spoke with subtle cadence

Not too softly, yet not loud

"My name is Time, the river,

 From the rain-drop to the sea

 From misery to the sorrow,

 To the joy, and back to me."

I sat on grass, like history,

And watched the river flow

And swirling in the foam, the kings

And armies, watched them go

I gazed upon the sunset

Far beyond the western waste

In silent contemplation

Of the vanity of haste

I saw it all dissolving in

The shadow of the night

And then beheld the crystal of

The golden morning's light

The lamp, the moth, the watcher

All understand the game

That every tempest motion takes

You closer to the flame

And when the flower withers

From the stalk, and turns to dust

And the mask of love is lifted

From the face of lust

And when the moth is dying

And the lamp is burning out

The golden light of truth dispels

The shadowed night of doubt

The watcher, silent, contemplates

The transience of it all

The legends, then the books and pictures

And the final fall

And the rising of the hopes

From passion born anew

And then the glistening tear-drops on

The face of life, like dew

The legend of the phoenix

Is the final truth, he notes

One wisp of hay, eternal, on

Illusion's surface floats

SOFTLY IN THE NIGHT

Softly, softly in the staggering night

That has lost its footing in turbulent times

As a forlorn note hangs heavy in the air

A fossilized echo of a long lost rhyme

Softly, softly lest you lose your step

Knock once on my door and then fade away

For the memory lingers when the moment has fled

And I know that you don't have the freedom to stay

We move, like the shadows, not of our free will

At the whim of the moment, we stagger or fall

But the mind is still free, so knock soft on my door

And let me remember you answered my call

Softly, softly the morning returns

As the needs and desires of night ebb away

Yet, the knock on the door has been etched like a note

In the dark, silent heart of the turmoil of day

LET MY MEMORIES WHISPER WORDS OF LOVE

Let my memories whisper words of love

To your thoughts, as moonlight streams

          Through the windows of my dreams.

And the shadows of the snow-flakes write

          A verse upon the sky,

          As far away you lie;

Forsaken, not forgotten,

          By the soul amidst the stars,

Who carries every vision, right

          From Mercury to Mars.

                        

You sank beneath the tidal wave

Of circumstance and time

And bubbles that arise in wake

In unision burst in rhyme

          And far away, above the lake

          Where echoes, mournful, chime

The starlight glistens on the snow

Of nameless graveyards, and the glow

Of candles, to the thoughts of lonely lovers is confined.

And generations of merchandizing,

Sermonizing, tantalizing

Advertising taught us every virtue can be sold.

And we, believing this big lie

Did cease to live, except to die

And tried to turn emotion and our passion into gold.

But gold turns black with time and age

And so does beauty's fair visage

For shadows fall before the sun

Can rise; the clock will ever run,

And everyday a day is done

And time turns one more bloody page.

Thus every new generation comes,

Is born to live, yet lives to run

From death, and when its time is done

Is laid to rest within the cage

Of evermore and eternity

With a false facade of serenity

And the eye of truth perceives it all

And smoulders with a burning rage!

Let my memories whisper words of love

To your thoughts as moonlight fades

          Through the gaping wounded gates

That bound the fragrant garden

          Of love, where we did lie

          Together beneath the sky;

The world around forgotten on

          Some lonely pine-wood glade

When you spoke to me with glances

          "Let not this moment fade

           Let time, the river, cease to flow

           Let circumstance be bound.

           And I be lost forever in your

           Heart, and not be found."

I HAVE SEEN YOU MANY A TIME

"I have seen her eyes gleam forth from the walls of Ajanta"

                                      -- Ali Sardar Jafri, (Samundar ki beti)

                                        

Amidst golden pillars that reached for the sky

The sunshine on Iram was pure molten gold

Like a wisp on the heat-haze, your form shimmered by

A shadow made of light, too ethereal to hold

The soul of Sahara and the pulse of the Nile

Are your fire that feeds on your beauty and pain

Every pyramid tribute that you strayed for a while

As you wandered in search of Osiris in vain

Then a glimpse of you naked and trembling I saw

When the sun from the west quenched the fire of the east

And then later I found others gathered in awe

And among them I noticed both ruler and priest

You lived in the minds of the masters of art

For I saw you from Europe to China, in stone

There are many who saw you enshrined in the heart

Yet others who swore that you ruled on a throne

There are those who have seen you arise from the sea

Or ride on a tiger, a sword in your hand

And yet I have known you to lie beside me

On a bed made of flowers that I piled on the sand

And my fingers have whispered of love to your skin

And your arms have responded, and clasped me so tight

And I have been witness to the fires within

That you strive to extinguish with all of your might

I have followed your trail through the valleys of time

All over the landscape of our universe

I have gazed on your beauty with the glances of rhyme

As you smouldered encircled by the flames of a verse

I have seen you in Egypt, in Persia, in Greece

I have seen you in Venice, by the light of the moon

I have seen you in torment, in passion, in ease

In the night and the morning and the pale afternoon

I have seen you breathe life into each work of art

The artist gave form to it, yours was the breath

That imbued into paper the passion of a heart

Yet now it appears that I'll see you as death