Lahorijan: Child of our Indulgence

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Lahorijan 2.8.14
                                                                This Road to Paradise
                                              
               my child the road to god is swashed from the gutter and the drain of our minds
                                   the ground below there is no place to walk
                                                      this road to paradise

           strangled and grasped by the footmarks of our civilization’s muddy indulgence here everyone’s happy hopping like frogs and a traffic bustle for every dry patch of ground
                                                      this road to paradise

                         alien to our scriptures and our grand economic theories
    they have taught us to look for it  like readymade shirts in the market
                                                    this road to paradise

                                  call it a hovel if you like but  it is far worse than that                
with sleepers covered with  grime and filth  in my hand,  I begin walking again
                                                      this road to paradise  

Lahorijan 11.8.14

 A piece of poem which i had long lost and which i found today in the middle of an incomplete untitled essay on cultural xenophobia!
                                                             
                                                               Lost and Found                                                                                                                                
                                                             

                                                                lies!  what lies?
                                                I guess it is way to tell the truth 
                                           your karma is the key to this door of despair

                                                The moment is in front of you 
                                                         that moment is here 
                                                not to be caught up , tied or chained


                     Acknowledge the beautiful thread in which we are warp and weft 
                           then you will see I am not here to judge false from truth
I am the cosmic watchman  whose eyes keep watch of the soul of the universe


                                     i am the present, past and the future .
                                   The warm keeper of your mortal diary.
                         which now reeks of  pessimism of your profound misery 











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