Peace and Prosperity for all

no epic was ever penned 

without being spiced by jealousy, 

 

no romance novels complete 

 

without juicy syrup of 

 

dripping emotions, betrayal and gossips, 

 

doomed are those that forgot to pay

 

their homage to Eros, 

 

no action thrillers without guns and

 

blood flowing like water, 

 

keep us awake at night.  

 

 

 

we thrive at our senses  being titillated, 

 

and then we go to the temples 

 

to pray for peace  and

 

prosperity for all.  

 

somehow the math does not make sense.  

 

if a book is a window to the world,

 

it’s the book or the world, 

 

which one has gone wrong? 

 

the eternal question  remains unanswered, 

 

chicken or the egg, 

 

which came first?  

 

 

 

and we,

 

the children of God, 

 

while secretly pamper our senses,

 

and stoke our libido, 

 

pay lip service to  peace

 

and prosperity  for all.

 

 

Unanswered Prayers

I sent a prayer up,
Reply never came down.
May be dreams escaped my sleep,
And the lotto ticket
Just another piece of paper
In the morning.
O’ wait,
I have not checked
The results yet.
The dream can live on
For a few more moments,
But the coffee calls.
Now only if I can leave
The warmth of the bed.
Peace made an exit
When greed entered,
And prayers remained
Unanswered.

Red is the color of blood

Four preachers came to the square today,
With followers in tow and scriptures in hands,
They came to spread the message of peace
Preaching peace but hearts full with venomous hate.

With unwavering faith in their scriptures and in supremacy of their creators,
They spoke of harmony but stuck to their own studied faiths,
The city was burning fueled by division, its citizens at risk,
Blind followers’ rants heat up the atmosphere, citizens afraid.

Suddenly what went wrong no one knew, chaos ensued,
Amid pushing and shoving, fisticuffs and stabbings, mayhem reigned,
When the preachers were thrown to the ground, no one saw,
Crushed under the feet of the crowd, they cried out for help, as the stampede grew. 

Nurtured back to health with expert treatment and needed blood transfusion,
The preachers prayed to the Lords of their faiths in humble submissions,
Taking the name of their creators constantly, they offered their salutations,
Praising the physicians for their dedication, inquired about those who gave them life with blood donations.

Humbly replied the doctors, serving humanity without division is our religion,
Neither Christians nor Jews, nor Hindus nor Muslims here,
Knew not who donated blood, nor whose blood flow in veins of yours,
Black, white or brown, American, African, Asian or Mexican, unknown were the donors.

Only one thing is certain, an absolute truth, blood has no religion,
The blood that flows in your veins, same flows in everyone’s, that you also know.
It’s neither white nor brown nor black,
Red is the only color of blood.

Peace, a pipe dream

for a promise of safety tomorrow

given up our freedom to be happy today

couching our cowardice as god’s will

in silence of thought we seek redemption

spines turned to jelly in submission

we dream of the day of judgement

of standing erect with sins forgiven

foolish are we to think that our deeds

to please the tyrants will go unnoticed

we, who have lulled ourselves to sleep

with our acquiescence to deed of servitude

feel betrayed with neither safety nor salvation

and peace remained a pipe dream, oblivion

Thy name is compromise

When a whole life was spent

Clipping the wings of heart’s desire

And mind locked in a vault

Guarded by the lost key

Of pursuit of happiness

A search futile

Ignorant of what’s being searched for

The little morsels spread to entice

Does not make the heart flutter

For a promise of bliss

Embraced a fleeting moment of peace

Price that I pay

In perpetual silence

Misery, thy name is compromise

Home — Jane Dougherty Writes

This started as a comment I made to Jane’s poem today morning to which she responded immediately with a beautiful follow up and I responded back instantly.  As people say, the rest is history.  

 

The Oracle suggested the first section of this poem which became a collaborative poem when Pranab (in bold) chimed in. Why ask where home lies? Look out on the night ocean, listen to its wings beating, see how green morning wakes, slow and soft as peace falling, stars wheeling, in the vast silence of […]

via Home — Jane Dougherty Writes

Timing Matters

I kept silent

To buy peace

I kept silent

To get my

Wants fulfilled

I kept silent

For safety and security

I kept silent

For homogeneity

Now silenced

Neither did I

Buy peace

Nor freedom

For perceived safety

Bartered freedom

Forgetting history

And the millions

Who paid the price

Of my silence

With their lives

Taking shelter

Behind God’s will

To justify silence

As the powerful

Cavorted

And now chained

I suffer

Feeding the ego

Of a narcissist

And sleeping with

A cobra

Exciting but deadly

Pound of flesh

Will be extracted

Foolish to think

God created the

Gas chambers

Time to remain silent

Long past

Timing matters

Peace be on you

I am neither lost
Nor seeking
Neither I lack faith
Nor indoctrinated
Atheist I am not
Nor a believer
In a world gone mad
Everyone preaching
My way or highway
Who is to judge
Wrong or right 
I shall let you
Have your say
Will keep my
Opinion to myself
Lest I make a
Fool of me
Opening my mouth
Peace be on you
I have found mine