With cheers raining
And, tears too.
Children playing
Adults praying.
Everyone isolates themselves
From themselves,
Yet they care a lot
For others.
Strangers in the own world
They are none others but us.
When it is painful
We blame all but us
When in pleasure
The divine, we never treasure.
Strange ain’t it
We are strangers
In our own world.
©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 280608.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Friday, June 27, 2008
World as it is....
Scarcity
An illusory excuse.
Shortage
Is just another word
For scarcity.
Poverty cries
While hoarders hoard
Capitalists smile.
Politic ticks
And politicians are pigs
Together they capitalize
The hoarders’ antic.
Everywhere slums
Are swelling with nasty smell
Modernization comes
Caressing the downtrodden
Letting them slip and sleep by the drain.
Education has become a privilege
Selected few rides through
The rest groan in pain of neglect
By the very government, they voted.
color and religion still matters
For one to climb in relieve
Yet the world talks of globalisation
With fragmented words, and looks.
The one God we called Creator
Is missing forever
Fearing for human insanity.
The neglected ones
Warring for survival.
When will this come to and end?
And, the philosopher said
“Nay, this is the world”
“It’s perfect”
“God is great”.
A small child cries
Parents murdered
By humanity.
©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 270608.
An illusory excuse.
Shortage
Is just another word
For scarcity.
Poverty cries
While hoarders hoard
Capitalists smile.
Politic ticks
And politicians are pigs
Together they capitalize
The hoarders’ antic.
Everywhere slums
Are swelling with nasty smell
Modernization comes
Caressing the downtrodden
Letting them slip and sleep by the drain.
Education has become a privilege
Selected few rides through
The rest groan in pain of neglect
By the very government, they voted.
color and religion still matters
For one to climb in relieve
Yet the world talks of globalisation
With fragmented words, and looks.
The one God we called Creator
Is missing forever
Fearing for human insanity.
The neglected ones
Warring for survival.
When will this come to and end?
And, the philosopher said
“Nay, this is the world”
“It’s perfect”
“God is great”.
A small child cries
Parents murdered
By humanity.
©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 270608.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Doomed??
The arid land
Marks the death.
Millions starve
For a morsel.
This land is not
A cornucopia of wealth.
People with swarthy skin
Coating their body with nothing.
Dead, but still alive
Their soul hanging
On loose thread.
Food comes in liquid
Flowing wheat is luxury.
Extending their arms
They cup the food in their palms
Crowded gathering
The fittest survives.
The day’s ordeal over,
At least for now.
Until the next roar
Of the old trucks
Is heard again
A deep scar
Slowly began to open.
They cry blood
That too, too dry to call blood.
Frantic cries
The daily music.
The wail of hungry children
Is like a machine gun
Gone wild.
The world sympathise
Alas! What sympathy holds?
When on the paper a signature absent
UN says no food delivery.
Wait for the signature to come by
Then UN shall sanction the delivery.
Can the hungry souls
Sign their stomach
To quench their thirst
And wipe the hunger?
Think, man
Oh!! UN
Please pardon me
Give them food.
You go to hell
With the signature
And damned protocols.
Let the mark of death
Grow thin on this land
The arid land.
©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 240608.
Marks the death.
Millions starve
For a morsel.
This land is not
A cornucopia of wealth.
People with swarthy skin
Coating their body with nothing.
Dead, but still alive
Their soul hanging
On loose thread.
Food comes in liquid
Flowing wheat is luxury.
Extending their arms
They cup the food in their palms
Crowded gathering
The fittest survives.
The day’s ordeal over,
At least for now.
Until the next roar
Of the old trucks
Is heard again
A deep scar
Slowly began to open.
They cry blood
That too, too dry to call blood.
Frantic cries
The daily music.
The wail of hungry children
Is like a machine gun
Gone wild.
The world sympathise
Alas! What sympathy holds?
When on the paper a signature absent
UN says no food delivery.
Wait for the signature to come by
Then UN shall sanction the delivery.
Can the hungry souls
Sign their stomach
To quench their thirst
And wipe the hunger?
Think, man
Oh!! UN
Please pardon me
Give them food.
You go to hell
With the signature
And damned protocols.
Let the mark of death
Grow thin on this land
The arid land.
©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 240608.
Monday, June 23, 2008
HELL
The mere mention of the word ‘Hell’ can give rise to an imagination where people who have committed sins, undergo various kinds of punishment, from being cut into halves, burnt alive, stabbed, being devoured by strange creatures etc. It carries such an impact, and is an inalienable part of most of the world religions/beliefs. It is a place where sinners punished by putting them through sufferings beyond normal imagination. It reflects darkness, pain, extreme cold, extreme heat and suffering. Punishment meted depends on the nature or gravity of the sins committed by the individuals.
In some religions, the concept of hell has shifted from mere wordy elaboration into colorful, clear and gory reflections in graphical forms. The aim is to inculcate fear in man, so to repent and not to commit any wrongdoings. To make it short and simple, hell is like a prison on earth but with horrendous sufferings and punishment. Still, the conditions on earth are in many ways equal to hell itself.
In June 2007, I had the opportunity to visit a Chinese Temple in Malaysia, which depicts an underground hell, with all the graphical representation. This is a Chinese concept of hell and may have some similarities with the concepts explained in other religions/beliefs as well. Each belief is unique in its own sense and precious part of those who believe in it. Let us look at this with an open mind.
©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 230608
Saturday, June 21, 2008
The wall of hope
The wall besmirched with clotted blood
And cracks all along the entire surface
Evokes the gloomy atmosphere of an era concealed
In painful tragedies and devastation.
Driven wild by tense moments of survival
Many hid behind the wall, to shield from the bombs
While listening to the crackles of flame
Consuming the buildings around, but not the wall.
They hold steadfast to their faith
And their faith to guide them to live
To appreciate the beauty of another day
Despite the sequential death around them.
Too precious to lose, the wall always renewed
Not with paint and plaster but with unwavering faith,
The fading twilights reminded them of another attack
Lurking somewhere across the dark sky over their lives.
The wall though besmirched with clotted blood
That remained their wall of hope
To withstand the barrage of atrocities
Until the end of war, and the end of life.
(Dedicated to everyone who had gone through
the painful experiences during the many wars
waged by mankind against mankind. They lost
everything – Love, Health, Wealth, Trust, Limbs
yet they hold tight to the wall of hope to
continue the survival of mankind)
©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 210608)
And cracks all along the entire surface
Evokes the gloomy atmosphere of an era concealed
In painful tragedies and devastation.
Driven wild by tense moments of survival
Many hid behind the wall, to shield from the bombs
While listening to the crackles of flame
Consuming the buildings around, but not the wall.
They hold steadfast to their faith
And their faith to guide them to live
To appreciate the beauty of another day
Despite the sequential death around them.
Too precious to lose, the wall always renewed
Not with paint and plaster but with unwavering faith,
The fading twilights reminded them of another attack
Lurking somewhere across the dark sky over their lives.
The wall though besmirched with clotted blood
That remained their wall of hope
To withstand the barrage of atrocities
Until the end of war, and the end of life.
(Dedicated to everyone who had gone through
the painful experiences during the many wars
waged by mankind against mankind. They lost
everything – Love, Health, Wealth, Trust, Limbs
yet they hold tight to the wall of hope to
continue the survival of mankind)
©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 210608)
A walk with a special child………
As I hold his hand, and took him around the school field as part of the routine morning exercise, he stared at me in a hostile manner. This is a special child. He does not like to be part of the regular group to exercise. He prefers to be alone.
That day, I decided to get him involved in some activities. So, I took him for a walk around the school field. I was expecting him to rebel and pull away from me, but surprisingly he was very quiet. He grasped my hand and began to follow me slowly. As we were walking, I talked to him as usual though he did not acknowledge me at all. I do not know whether, he understood me, but I had a very strong feeling that he was listening.
I see a carpet of green grass expanding all over the small school field. I failed to notice other things around me, as my mind was busy attending some business of its own. But, the innocent child in his own world taught me something new on that day, “live in the present, not in the past or the future” the phrase that we all the so-called adults, might have read, spoken and heard of every now and then. During the walk, suddenly he bent down and picked a small rock, which lies hidden among the grass and concealed from my eyes. He took it, flipped the rock a few times and passed to me. At first, I ignored that little act, which seemed so insignificant for me. Then, as the walk continued, he pulled my hand and dragged me towards a strange looking leaf, which lies amidst the thousands of dried leaves. It was indeed something strange, his mind could sift one leaf out of many, and that leaf is unique in its shape. We were about to complete the third round, when he spotted a grasshopper and his eyes began to trail the path taken by the grasshopper. I admit, I had never once been aware of these things during my walk. Finally, he stopped at a point and turned his attention to the luscious mangoes hanging on the tree at one end of the field.
That day, this child thought me the true art of living in the presence of constant awareness of our existence. Without this awareness, life becomes a meaningless travel. I marvel at this child and was a little embarrassed at my lack of aptitude to see things that he could see.
He lives only in the present. God bless the child. Those who live in the ‘present’ live eternally.
©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 210608.
That day, I decided to get him involved in some activities. So, I took him for a walk around the school field. I was expecting him to rebel and pull away from me, but surprisingly he was very quiet. He grasped my hand and began to follow me slowly. As we were walking, I talked to him as usual though he did not acknowledge me at all. I do not know whether, he understood me, but I had a very strong feeling that he was listening.
I see a carpet of green grass expanding all over the small school field. I failed to notice other things around me, as my mind was busy attending some business of its own. But, the innocent child in his own world taught me something new on that day, “live in the present, not in the past or the future” the phrase that we all the so-called adults, might have read, spoken and heard of every now and then. During the walk, suddenly he bent down and picked a small rock, which lies hidden among the grass and concealed from my eyes. He took it, flipped the rock a few times and passed to me. At first, I ignored that little act, which seemed so insignificant for me. Then, as the walk continued, he pulled my hand and dragged me towards a strange looking leaf, which lies amidst the thousands of dried leaves. It was indeed something strange, his mind could sift one leaf out of many, and that leaf is unique in its shape. We were about to complete the third round, when he spotted a grasshopper and his eyes began to trail the path taken by the grasshopper. I admit, I had never once been aware of these things during my walk. Finally, he stopped at a point and turned his attention to the luscious mangoes hanging on the tree at one end of the field.
That day, this child thought me the true art of living in the presence of constant awareness of our existence. Without this awareness, life becomes a meaningless travel. I marvel at this child and was a little embarrassed at my lack of aptitude to see things that he could see.
He lives only in the present. God bless the child. Those who live in the ‘present’ live eternally.
©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 210608.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
A stroll in the garden…………..
At every turn in life, we see things which can relate to our practical lifestyles. Due to the failure to observe and think deeply, most of the times we missed out the important elements that nature is providing us in our day-to-day lives. Failing in observation and discrimination can render us paralyzed throughout the life. Be generous in observation and thinking styles, so that these two processes may help to stimulate the production of neurons, leading to a better capacity to think and remember things.
Life flows generously like a stream, which then turns into a river to merge with the ocean. This is a wonderful part of nature. But, we human have become selfishly entangled in our own personal world, sometimes we become selfishly very personal, to the extent we can’t even tolerate our own mind attempting to try something new. Confined within the walls of selfishness, most of the moments in our lives, are spent in routinely guided schedules. We get up in the morning. We have breakfast. We go to work. We grumble. We backbite. We gossip. We worry. We come back from work. We have tea. We watch TV. We go for leisurely activities. We come back again. We take bath. We socialize. We watch TV. We read. We listen to songs. We have dinner. We go online. We chat. We reply e-mails. We write something. We yawn. We go to sleep. We go on dreaming. We do all these to please our own mind. Huh!!! What a routine list we have here.
In our attempt to lead a good life, very often, we unconsciously set aside the true meanings of life and the reasons behind everything that happens around us. When a tragedy occurs, we either blame all those around us or end up consoling our own self and live in an artificially accepted satisfaction. Too much of anything can become very unhealthy. Too less of everything too can become fatal. Moderation is the secret. Lack of commitment is one of the reasons, why people are losing their ground. We want fast results in every endeavor that we come across, without really putting an effort to commit ourselves to achieve the goals. Cowering with fear, majority of us would prefer to walk away from the turbulence, which may build along the process to reach the target. It is not an easy task for many, especially after years of constant pounding of negativity in our mind. We should try to breakaway from the monotony of life, look deep into our real needs, and assess the worthiness of satisfying the needs.
Those with families or extended families should spend time showering their concern and love for them. Work and money, could be achieved by many means, but a lost love is not as easy as that. Love is not a mere emotional gratification, but commitment and responsibility surpassing the elements of selfishness. There must not be any traits for personal gain, rather must be free from all expectation. After all, life is just short distant from birth to death.
In this stroll in the garden, nature walks with us, though we walk far from our conscience. Let us together put our efforts towards a fruitful and generous march in this life. Let us take as many people as we can along with us and head towards betterment.
©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 190508.
Life flows generously like a stream, which then turns into a river to merge with the ocean. This is a wonderful part of nature. But, we human have become selfishly entangled in our own personal world, sometimes we become selfishly very personal, to the extent we can’t even tolerate our own mind attempting to try something new. Confined within the walls of selfishness, most of the moments in our lives, are spent in routinely guided schedules. We get up in the morning. We have breakfast. We go to work. We grumble. We backbite. We gossip. We worry. We come back from work. We have tea. We watch TV. We go for leisurely activities. We come back again. We take bath. We socialize. We watch TV. We read. We listen to songs. We have dinner. We go online. We chat. We reply e-mails. We write something. We yawn. We go to sleep. We go on dreaming. We do all these to please our own mind. Huh!!! What a routine list we have here.
In our attempt to lead a good life, very often, we unconsciously set aside the true meanings of life and the reasons behind everything that happens around us. When a tragedy occurs, we either blame all those around us or end up consoling our own self and live in an artificially accepted satisfaction. Too much of anything can become very unhealthy. Too less of everything too can become fatal. Moderation is the secret. Lack of commitment is one of the reasons, why people are losing their ground. We want fast results in every endeavor that we come across, without really putting an effort to commit ourselves to achieve the goals. Cowering with fear, majority of us would prefer to walk away from the turbulence, which may build along the process to reach the target. It is not an easy task for many, especially after years of constant pounding of negativity in our mind. We should try to breakaway from the monotony of life, look deep into our real needs, and assess the worthiness of satisfying the needs.
Those with families or extended families should spend time showering their concern and love for them. Work and money, could be achieved by many means, but a lost love is not as easy as that. Love is not a mere emotional gratification, but commitment and responsibility surpassing the elements of selfishness. There must not be any traits for personal gain, rather must be free from all expectation. After all, life is just short distant from birth to death.
In this stroll in the garden, nature walks with us, though we walk far from our conscience. Let us together put our efforts towards a fruitful and generous march in this life. Let us take as many people as we can along with us and head towards betterment.
©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 190508.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Letter
A piece of paper
Given values by letters and numbers
Stressing more on emotion and relations
Letter, for centuries have kept people
Together, at one point of time
And, apart at another point of time.
A letter
My dear friends
May make you laugh in joy
Though it may not laugh at all;
A letter
My dear friends
May make you cry in sorrow
Though it may not cry at all.
A letter is just a piece of paper
That carries the eternal joy
Of human laughter from
Here, there and everywhere.
A letter is just a piece of paper
That breaks the heart of joy
And sprinkle the pieces unto tears
Here, there and everywhere.
A letter
May start a war
Where battlefields spring
To see many deaths,
Just because the letter
Carries potent words
That stitch hatred and revenge.
A letter
May end a war
Where battlefields cease
Before many dies
Just because the letter
Carries potent words
That stitch love and forgiveness.
Long, yes, it has been very long
Since I received a letter from a friend
Yet my longing to see you, my dear ‘letter’
Keep on increasing day by day.
Though, the piece of paper I don’t receive anymore
Letters still do come to me, but electronically
And I still cherish them equally.
A letter can be official
A letter can be unofficial
The impact may remain the same
Either sadness that strays the emotion
or happiness that cement the bonds.
©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 110608.
Given values by letters and numbers
Stressing more on emotion and relations
Letter, for centuries have kept people
Together, at one point of time
And, apart at another point of time.
A letter
My dear friends
May make you laugh in joy
Though it may not laugh at all;
A letter
My dear friends
May make you cry in sorrow
Though it may not cry at all.
A letter is just a piece of paper
That carries the eternal joy
Of human laughter from
Here, there and everywhere.
A letter is just a piece of paper
That breaks the heart of joy
And sprinkle the pieces unto tears
Here, there and everywhere.
A letter
May start a war
Where battlefields spring
To see many deaths,
Just because the letter
Carries potent words
That stitch hatred and revenge.
A letter
May end a war
Where battlefields cease
Before many dies
Just because the letter
Carries potent words
That stitch love and forgiveness.
Long, yes, it has been very long
Since I received a letter from a friend
Yet my longing to see you, my dear ‘letter’
Keep on increasing day by day.
Though, the piece of paper I don’t receive anymore
Letters still do come to me, but electronically
And I still cherish them equally.
A letter can be official
A letter can be unofficial
The impact may remain the same
Either sadness that strays the emotion
or happiness that cement the bonds.
©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 110608.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Where has the mist gone?
I sat alone on the wooden bench
Along the rows of rubber trees
Staring at the Utopian mystery
Of the forest, that covers the faraway land.
I used to travel the width and the breath
Of this wonderful forest that keeps shrinking
Briefing me the selfishness that shadows mankind
Little care not spared, even for the trees and hills.
I cried in silence, my heart is wet
Thinking the fate of my beloved forest
Who remains a mystery to me until this day
For letting man walk away, looting her precious life.
The forest mystery dragged me the first time into it
A new world built itself within me, a love strange
And on that day I knelt and prayed to the Almighty
Pray, let this one survive the vicious man,
For generations, are yet to rise to see this forest.
Alas! the wail of selfish man is much louder
With machine and willpower, man riddles the forest
A hundred years of silent witness began to crumble
A loud thud spread across the forest, leaving the rest shudders.
For another tree to grow up tall and sturdy
May take another hundred generations of man, wise mankind.
©cyclopseven. All rights reserved 030608.
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