Fungus. A Heap of Poems бесплатное чтение

NATURE CRIES

Nature cries and cries aloud,

For naught I’ve done to make her proud.

My selfish prayer can’t reach His1 ears;

I can’t suborn Him with my tears.

Cheer up you kids with father’s rum;

All life of his, he saved a drum!

My kid did want a dog or cat;

But I just brought him an iPad. —

The peace of mind is hard to seek;

The world is sick and people freak.

Parvez Kumar

AS GLITTERING STARS IN THE SKY

As glittering stars in the sky and golden leaves

Float over my head when I walk under trees,

Your respect flows in my mind.

As a betrayed and wounded chest bleeds,

And I don’t feel firm ground under my feet,

Such are your eyes when you cry.

As a young train runs passionately on rails,

Your incredible love moves in my veins

Such are warm feelings of thine2.

As a diehard patriot, I want to be proud

And worship the ground you’re walking on now

Before I, somehow, die.

Parvez Kumar

SMELL

I smell a smell;

It’s foul like hell;

It’s rich and dry;

It makes me cry.

The smell is strong;

Been there for long.

The smell of scam;

I ate with ham.

The smell of lies,

I told my wife;

The smell of crimes,

I do sometimes.—

The smell of foe;

The smell of woe;

The smell’s unfair;

The smell is rare.

No midnight fun;

No fire, no gun!

All are gone,

But the smell is on. —

Bespoke is suit,

Bespoke are shoes,

With Bovet3 watch,

Expensive scotch!

I doubt myself;

Any scent can’t help.

Macabre! Deep!

The smell’s in me.

Parvez Kumar

SEEKING YOU

Seeking You4

Where You’re not,

Naming You

Who You’re not,

Claiming you,

Whose You’re not,

Is human nature

To get a savior.

Shielding You

From each other;

Using You

Con each other;

Adoring You

Like a lover,

Is very selfish

And very kiddish.

Parvez Kumar

WE’RE CURSED TO THINK

We’re cursed to think about death,

To count the time that’s left.

My brain will stink,

I use to think.

My stuff for lust

Will smell the worst.

My putrid smell

Will scare like hell.

My tongue, my lips,

My arms, my hips

Will feed the worms,

Underground confirms.

Or fire will burn

I dearly earn:

My flesh, my blood,

My hair, my head.

It’ll burn my fat

Like fuel, like gas.

My va-va-voom5

Will see its doom.

I’m cursed to think.

You’re cursed to think.

Parvez Kumar

THE BEAR AND THE BEES

Buzz buzz, the bees cried.

Buzz buzz, some bees died.

Buzz buzz, he took it all.

Buzz buzz, many years we spent,

Buzz buzz, waste they went?

Buzz buzz, what a horrible fall!

Buzz buzz, our honey and hive!

Buzz buzz, only some are alive.

Buzz buzz, he had no mercy.

Buzz buzz, how weak we are!

Buzz buzz, helpless so far.

Buzz buzz, back he will be.

Buzz buzz, let’s leave this land!

Bizz bizz, let’s fight his hand!

Buzz buzz, but we will die.

Bizz bizz, kids will be alive.

Bizz bizz, with new honey & hive.

Bizz bizz, nobody will cry.

Buzz buzz, we will push back.

Buzz buzz, we’ll fight him back.

Buzz buzz, so let us fly!

Parvez Kumar

|| BHARATA ||

I’m sorry to have overslept; || Bha ||

For the words, I haven’t kept, || ra ||

For the grieves, you have wept. || ta ||

Anymore, I won’t let you bleed. || Bha ||

Off shore, gonna kick the seed || ra ||

Of so called secular breed. || ta ||

The names are back which were erased || Bha ||

By some historians with certain craze || ra ||

For licking the feet of some angrez6. || ta ||7

Parvez Kumar

FUNGUS

Fungus here and fungus there:

Driving a car,

Smoking a cigar,

Running a nation, —

Losing patience,—

Fighting a war,

Banging a whore;

Writing this rhyme,—

Committing a crime;—

Fungus, damn, is everywhere.

Fungus is born, fungus is grown,

Without any maker of its own.

There’s the Maker, fungus believes.

Vital life is as it seems.

Parvez Kumar

BLANK PAPER

How beautiful and clean

This blank paper has been!

Full of purity and youth

Among people uncouth!

The ink of freedom, the ink of wisdom

Is all around our solar system;

But worthy pens are out of stock,—

As budget ones are in a flock.—

Thus carnage & lust stretch their feet

Across the virgin teenage sheet.

The pen of flute, the pen of bow,

Hand in hand, must equally go.

Parvez Kumar

MY LOVE

My love is an idiot;

To be the one is fashionable now,

And proud to be hideous

To cosset some handicap clowns.

My love is dark today;

To be the one is profitable now,

Victim card8 he’s got, to play

And make the mess in usual towns.

My love is gonna be

An innocent refugee,

For houses, sex and money;

Free of cost, full is tummy.

My love is an endless pretender

With foxy and flexible gender.

Parvez Kumar