Poems by Remigius de Souza

Monumental tomb of 20th century

a poem by

Remigius de Souza

Monumental tomb of 20th century
We built out of swarming humanity.
The masters spent their lifetime
To build a global tomb while
Millions gave up life in anonymity.

We are touchy of our buried past,
Glorify our colonial and feudal masters
Now and then ready to bury ourselves:
To build the community who shall be left?

Time is not frozen in the ticks
Of clocks, neither in the pyramids,
Nor in the portals of Victoria Terminus.
Time flows in the cuckoo’s song,
And sings in the dance of spring
In the vanishing woodlands.

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Ways to Wealth

a poem by

Remigius de Souza

1
Once a god adored adorned
many a head of door to an abode.
Now the gods take to the road,
beg for patronage. And the rich
beggars go globe trotting for
finance, know-how and trade.

2
Once the children of communities
cohesive received learning free
in the life-supporting skills in
branches of wholesome life-tree.

Now in the forward societies
they buy it at the trading malls
turning their clocks fast forward
until late to their adulthood
to earn their dough of uncertain
value to buy the living and life-
supporting services from expertise
at the thriving market place.

3
Now the bureaucrats, the masters
from the branches of expertise,
at their highest level of incompetence
in Peter Principle, take chairs;
replace colours faded of feudal-ship,
at the helm of the people’s affairs.

Now no wonder the prostitution goes
rampant and the pimps thrive on
as they make it quick with smile on
the by-ways and highways to wealth.

4
Now no wonder all the world children
‘you and I, yours and mine’
are the cursed ‘unwanted generation’,
as much said, the ‘growing population’
by the stakeholder ‘the rational animal’ man
as much done: the rape of Mother Earth.

(Dedicated to Annual National Budget 2006)

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Twilight Zone

a poem by

Remigius de Souza

A window of a cell, an eye on the world
moves on and on, on the wings of clouds,
a journey on the border of day and night
in the community of the Earth and stars.

Here one can’t even touch nor is there
a room for trivialities of theories
of trade, politics and philosophies,
and of the earthlings who don’t belong
to the Earth and the Sun, living on
self-deception and squabbles blown
out of proportion, work, work, work,
work to leave glorious ruins behind.

The gods, god persons live on preaching
a hope of salvation, raise monuments
by blood-shed by the earthlings bonded
perpetually to the chains of chaos.

Blessed are the earthworms far away
from the public eye; they don’t make
scriptures or monuments out of their
shit to the legacy or lead Life astray.

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Many a Happy Return

a poem by

Remigius de Souza

Now that the phase golden
The gift of your living is on
It’s in continuum to celebrate
And to communicate through
The tools of body, mind, and spirit
With the living-inmate
And the matters inert
In the nature to communion
Indeed an endless quest
In the 360 directions
Beyond petty barriers
Beyond denial, acceptance
Of our living planet
And in her soil so fertile
Sow the seeds of liberation.

(Dedicated to a friend, a senior citizen)

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Space-time frame and beyond

a poem by

Remigius de Souza

It may suit
Rushdie to receive knighthood,
Tagore to accept Nobel Prize,
Sartre to reject Nobel Prize,
Remi ‘an unknown entity’
to reject conferred credibility
by feudal (slave) mentality,
within their space-time frame.

Tukaram, who returns the royal gifts
to King Shivaji, is beyond space-time.

Adivasis, rich in art of sustenance,
have no scriptures, no discourses,
until now, since time unknown.

(Tukaram: Saint-poet of Maharshtra, India;
Adivasi: the tribal or the aborigines)

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V-V-Mod First World

a poem by

Remigius de Souza

1) Identity crisis

Remi! Carry ID here
Even natural death
A crime.

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2) Beautification

Mod fancy eye glasses
Diamond studded bras
Embellish mortified
Creation.

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(Dedicated to Shiv, the great god of destruction, on Mahashivratri.)

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Pilgrimage

a poem by

Remigius de Souza

(I take fantasy flights to the higher world of planets and stars
and the lower world of bacteria in the virtual reality of print and electronic media,
and return, now and then, to Mother Earth and ask her,
to Give me a fistful grains of sanity for my survival.)

My Earth begins here
From the soil below my feet
Wherever when I’m there.

Up ‘n up the vision ascending
Round ‘n round horizons holding
High ‘n high on Himalayas’ cliff.

Here, the ego of rumbling cliff ocean
Dissolve, evaporate now and then
Vanish in the soil, in the air.

Enough is the warmth in heart
To embrace new horizons;
Expands my selfhood now and then.

Sound bond with the soil holds
Whole Earth in a quarter of a ‘roti’;
Recognition retained in a square foot

Soil below my feet.

(Translation from the original in Marathi by the author)
NOTES
1. ‘Fistful of grain’: In my native village until fifty years ago there were no beggars.
Only the mendicants, ascetics, sadhus came to the households asking for alms.
They were offered at least a fistful of grains, not coins.
There was not much of currency. Now there are rich as well as poor beggars everywhere.
2. ‘Roti’: is Indian flat bread baked on burnt clay or iron plate, usually concave in shape.

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The Grand Concert

a poem by

Remigius de Souza

Koyal’s calls keep me company
in my lonesome night
and at early hours daily
in my backyard’s green canopy
a grand concert goes on,
on the air!

At this grand autonomous academy
none need either admission,
reservation or recognition,
except among barbarian human races.

The grand concert goes on
forever around out and in,
in-between the sky and the Earth:
where I am an actor, singer, dancer,
audience and onlooker
together with the other-
the other – everyone and I-
here and now, a man, and insect,
a leaf, a cloud, a ray, a raindrop
-seen and unseen,
is an unique tone, tune, colour,
an alphabet, an episode, an epic’

in between my entry and exit-
an exit is only a momentary interval…

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Life

a poem by

Remigius de Souza

When did it happen I don’t remember!
A fragile voice from my depths inner
Was whispering again and again while
Pursuing my passions and desires dear:

Life is larger than the religions all,
And philosophies, sciences, and arts all;
They are no more than means and machines
To take refuge, and for self-gratification;

More elaborate they get farther you are,
Lost in the labyrinth, away you wander
From life, holding an empty pot of creation
You create the Creator in your own image.

A saint or a sinner, a prince or a pauper,
Whatever you’re, life does never spare.
Life is most scrupulous, utterly ruthless.
Life ‘not a four-letter word’ owns you.

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Ways to Wealth

a poem by

Remigius de Souza

1)
Once a god adored adorned
many a head of door to an abode.
Now the gods take to the road,
beg for patronage. And the rich
beggars go globe trotting for
finance, know-how and trade.

2)
Once the children of communities
cohesive received learning free
in the life-supporting skills in
branches of wholesome life-tree.

Now in the forward societies
they buy it at the trading malls
turning their clocks fast forward
until late to their adulthood
to earn their dough of uncertain
value to buy the living and life-
supporting services from expertise
at the thriving market place.

3)
Now the bureaucrats, the masters
from the branches of expertise,
at their highest level of incompetence
in Peter Principle take chairs;
replace colours faded of feudal-ship,
at the helm of the people’s affairs.

Now no wonder the prostitution goes
rampant and the pimps thrive on
as they make it quick with smile on
the by-ways and highways to wealth.

4)
Now no wonder all the world children
‘you and I, yours and mine’
are the cursed ‘unwanted generation’,
as much said, the ‘growing population’
by the stakeholder ‘the rational animal’ man
as much done: the rape of Mother Earth.

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Catch’em Young

a poem by

Remigius de Souza

Mechanical toys aplenty
at market place, at home,
at nursery, at garden
on TV, and online.
They catch them young,
their virgin mind; initiate
and programme them promptly
to adopt robotics in thought
and in action for salvation
of my mod civilisation
for its insecure survival:
Parents and teachers follow ritual.

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On the 53rd Republic Day

a poem by

Remigius de Souza

Let’s carry on to remember
each other and greet
on occasions, on anniversaries;
let’s carry on to count years,
add on the numbers,
for the delight of managers
of our affairs;
let’s hope for the magic wand
to work miracles by the turn
of the endless night.

If not other than our common
ground to meet,
let me remember the anonymous,
for once at least,
beyond the patriotic floats display
on a Republic Day.

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A Missed Target

a poem by

Remigius de Souza

FLW’s mile – high ego
Casts its shadow
A missed target of 9/11.

Where do the pigeons dwell?

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(FLW: Frank Lloyd Wright, American architect,
considered as one of the form-givers of the 20th century modern architecture,
who had designed a mile high tower that was never executed.)

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