“That night, the blind man dreamt, that he was blind”
Blindness – Jose Saramagu

We, bartering peace and tranquillity

For accoutrements.
All the world is dreamstuff,
Hot ice,
All the world is a market.

Plugging all channels of underground water
We opening fresh cable TV channels.
A bomb going off from a kindergarten school-bag
God has no obvious pity on a LKG lad.

My mother going round the Tulsi grove,
With ‘Deepam’ in her hand.
Her thin radiance, like a moon
Waxing and waning in the morning mist.

Poet singing no more,
“There is nothing greater than the mother of men.”
There is a paradigm shift in poet’s voice.

Mass killings and suicides inundating,
My God’s own country.
Of what good, the delicacy called life
If taken, not with the salt of tears?

There is a society in the internet club
Where none intrudes, with music in all my orifices,
By my web site, with a mouse in my hand
To the exclusion of all, sweet and sour nothings-
-and to speak nothing of God.