You never see me in your world

                                                                                       



You never see me in your world
I am a falcon in search of my prey
I am not a sad bird or an angry one
And you are the prayer of my thoughts
Your brilliant smile glows like my eyes
Sharp and lucid in disguise
My music is loud for you
Wind sings the trance for me
Vision is my immortal journey
I see space,I see you walk your life
You never see me in your world
You sing aloud praises and poetry
You are not happy and alive
Im waiting for you to die
To see me in my world
Oh Child.I am a falcon
You are beaneath me.
You are not sad.
You dont know your prey
You dont know kill it
You dont know to eat it
You pray..I kill my prey
I am a falcon
You are a mortal

-Kris

A sip of Cola,sweet and chilled
Cold eyes and sweaty hands
Walking alone questioning you
I believed in tears and joy
I ran alone believing you
I condemned the past and history
Sad,No one calls this poetry
I exist,I believe,I am scared
I am ashamed,Yes..I am a man
A wallet full of cash and proof
That I existed and Who I am!
I am a number,a citizen
I vote and I am one of you
A can of beer,bitter and chilled
Shivering hands and guilt
Words of my mother and Gurus
I sat with me,Myself and me
Put an arm across my shoulder
Im sad that I exist,Why?
The shame of being alive
The shame of being a man
God faded with the innocence
And reality became my lord
Her intense eyes stare at me
Myself is walking away from me
You deserve to be happy
Said the believers,And mother
I sat with a pile of cash
I took in some white stash
They sang around me...
For the shame of being alive
I died..With this poem
He died,He lived..
My inner reflection died
As water is no more clear
His fear died...

- Kris

I read about the English,The Germans and the French
The tales of war,victory and surrender
The colonies are a memory,distant dusty history
By the lakeside,I sat watching the ripples and reflections
Green water,Blue sky,a lost face and few thoughts

The colonies are a memory,distant dusty history
But the scars lie beneath the books,a painful story
Paintings all around with the crimson red,Why I prefer blue?
My heart lies with that river,sparkling silver blue
White present,dark memories,a lost cause and grey thoughts

I belong somewhere away,far where everyone likes blue
They say river Saraswati disappeared,was my home
Unheard about the river,lives the ignorant homeless few
I sleep crying all night and dream of the river I knew
Alone in a crowd of vivid,I hope to go back soon

Not to the river,that flows beneath earth,green and brown
Or to  fight time,or the Portuguese King and queen
Yes,They went to Goa,my ancestors away from our river
Temples built with pride,a new home and a new beggining
I can feel the echoes,even now in the Ponda air

They sang songs,built houses and spoke too fast
A new language,a new hope..But soon it ended too
With the colonial powers from Europe landed in the shores
They fled again to the south,to the coastal lands new
They scatterd like sand,all across the beaches and towns

Still without a land,they live with the different natives
They all like blue,in a world of crimson red
Still without knowing,where is our home,why we fled
I sit by the lakeside,knowing who I am.
But the friction of thoughts,never heals with time

I read about the English,The Germans and the french
The tales of war,victory and surrender
The colonies are a memory,distant dusty history
Never thought I will be part of those tales
I still sit in pain,in search of a home,Painted blue

-Kris

Then I slept to the sound of crickets
Repeated sound of raw symphony
Late in the night,Arayappan sang
Melody of pain in an intoxicated mind
Then a loud cry of Mariyamma and kochu
Tears of hatred,love and fear
Slowly the door shut,I was asleep
Then woke up to see a Millipede
Crawling on my wooden floor
Million legged beauty in motion
Shattered dreams on the floor
Few paintings of grey and blue
In the deep hours of sleep
My old owl wept with the thunder showers
Singing the midnight hymn like Mariyamma
Sudden lightening,moment of blindness
I was sleeping alone,on a grey canvas
Looking lost and intellectually confused
Then this morning,Arayappan woke me up
Brought me a black tea and newspaper
Talked about the money,his economics
Kochu went to school again in tears
My old owl was blind again,like Arayappan at night
I woke up lost,just like I was the last night
I woke up and found,my bottle of brandy
And few brushes,Then I had to make a choice
Red or blue,Green or white or Just black
Owl sat looking at my canvas,Arayyapan too
They saw the same painting,Blinded by light
Slowly with each sip,I started making sense
My painting went blind,I slept on them
Then I woke up to the loud cry of Mariyamma
Thunder showers and a shouting Arayappan
Owl looked in distress,as lightening began
Silent in fear and Silent in happiness.
Trying to find sense in everything and everyone
I wrote a poem,because once she said "I am a poet"
- Kris

Tiny fragments of memory
In the deepest floors of the mind
Once in a while pokes our heart
Bleeding tears of nostalgia
Waves of green and an old brewery
Round spring side pebbles and rocks
It was either black or white
Grey came in late,a sudden shock
Tired hands,circles of smoke
Walked,Talked and hoped
In between the charming
And the once charmed

He slept so tired,
Like a door shut for the night
Unwilling to reclaim his youth
Indecision,Decided,He refused
To write,He remained quiet
Romance of the red
Magic of the saffron

Unclear visuals of scenery
Of the shallow world outside
Once in a while poked a heart
Calm tears for death
Waves of goodbye for a man
Neither black nor white
He was a poem in grey
As they say,
A poem is read again
And again and again
- Kris