My Baby, My Precious

A Conversation: Part 7


Usman:
A child lies sleeping at the breast
Drinking milk and taking rest
The mother croons to the child, "Drink
Well, for soon you must leave the nest."

The child for his part does not understand 
That he is to leave this promised land
Gleeful he looks into his mother's eyes
And around her finger clasps his little hand.


Sai:
This one is called "My Baby, My Precious"

Made from my blood and guts,
First fed from the cord,
And now from my lactating bust.
You lay there in my arms,
There's nothing but traces of calm.

So serene,
So peaceful,
So beautiful,
My baby, my precious.
Sleep my love.

How I admired watching you sleep,
Afraid, that I could wake you up...
With just a squeak.
Now, you lay there,
So still,
Refusing to wake up,
Even when the cries ran shrill.

So serene,
So peaceful,
So beautiful,
My baby, my precious.
Sleep my love.

With hushed tones,

I would sing you lullabies.

Now, with a heavy heart,

I'll whisper my goodbyes.

So serene,
So peaceful,
So beautiful,
My baby, my precious.
Sleep my love.

For you have been called,

From the heavens above...

_______________________________________

Reference:

The Nest: http://tillad.blogspot.in/2014/05/the-nest.html

Speculation

A Conversation: Part 6


Usman:
Opiates, religion or just plain lies
Any port in a storm if a child cries
But if these ports continue to be trusted
The child remains a child until the day he dies


Sai:
This one is called "Speculation".

An addiction,
That makes you a victim.
A condition,
That either rips you apart,
Or binds you closely to tradition.
A relation,
That makes you forget all your past connections.
Is this love?
Or some sort of possession?
Maybe a divine intervention?
Who knows...
Whatever maybe the cause of it.
Does it really matter,
To know the start of it?
Ah, let them be...
Who are we to demarcate? 
As long as they accept,
The impact of their actions,
And see the ripples of their fate.
Until then,
We can only speculate.

_______________________________________

Reference:
A Child is Crying: http://tillad.blogspot.in/2014/05/a-child-is-crying.html

Blasphemy

A Conversation: Part 5

Usman and I generally text on whatsapp. While we were conversing, our topic suddenly changed and we started writing poems about religion/God. So when I finished writing the previous poem, I sent it to him. It was delivered to him almost after 12 hours! At one end, I was eagerly waiting for his reply/feedback while at the other, he was completely unaware that I had already sent him the poem. So this digital malfunction inspired me to write another poem. It's called "Blasphemy".

The flow of my thoughts...
The seed of my mind, 
Is still not sown.
A text that was sent yesterday,
Has still not flown.
The cause of this digital malfunction is not yet defined.
Maybe he was at play,
And he wanted the message to be confined.
I think this has happened,
Cz blasphemy was on my mind.

My Addiction

A Conversation: Part 4


Usman: 
Heaven is merely an illusory veil
Created for those minds that fail
To accept the cruelty that is life
And thus for salvation desperately flail.


Sai:
This one is called "My Addiction".

The veil that I have put on,
Is the symbol of my purity.
A fragile shield,
To protect my dignity.

You may think...
My method is faulty,
Which keeps me away from the reality.

But, what if...
It's my mental drip,
Prescribed to me and injected in me,
So that I can get a grip,
And face the mind-wrecking trip of the reality.

For you it maybe opium,
For me it's my religion.

As you say...
A perpetual state of oblivion,
A perfect sign of escapism.

So now try to distinguish this,
As we both know,
What does the trick.

From one junkie to another.

_______________________________________

Reference:
The Veil: http://tillad.blogspot.in/2014/05/the-veil.html 

Catharsis

A Conversation: Part 3


Usman:
Okay. Have you ever experienced the feeling when you are in a train and every single person is staring at you for absolutely no reason.

Sai:
This one is called "A Stranger".

Eyes, those naked strange eyes,
Looking through me,
Peering through my clothes,
My Skin,
And my soul,

What is so new about me?
Is there something that you have been told?

With those eyes you have scrutinized me,
For what?
A reason that no one knows.

Stare as deep as you like,
For I know,
How hollow is your soul.

_______________________________________


Usman:
Hollow soul,
Your hallowed goal must be to seek salvation.
Will you enlighten yourself or be resigned to damnation?

Sai:
This one is called "The Reason".

The fear of being damned doesn't eat him,
A glass of wine would hardly please him,
Attaining salvation is something that he doesn't seek,
Lustful salivation is arousing him and getting him at his peak.

_______________________________________


Usman:
What Zenith can he reach, he of lowly mind?
He who can think naught but his daily grind.
A cycle he rides to work, a cycle his life become
More cruel rider than God he will not find.

Sai:
This one is called "Catharsis".

God the divine creator,
Created him too.
With those same hands,
and the same mud he was formed too.

He, now has become the leech of the society,
Nibbling and draining the blood and life of this lady,
Who is no less than a deity.

How is it fair?
To be raped and murdered by his grotesque stare.

Well, this makes me question,
Does the divine creator even care?
Aren't we your obedient puppets?
Simply put in a state of despair.

This too shall pass...
So have you told
Yes, M'Lord...
This too has passed.

Now, I'm standing at your door.
With torn clothes and broken bones.

Now would you weigh my sins,
With my ethical and moral wins?

And let me know if I'm welcomed in your mighty...
Splendid,
Magnificent,
Divine,
Abode.

_______________________________________

References: 
Grind: http://tillad.blogspot.in/2014/05/grind.html 
Hollow Soul: http://tillad.blogspot.in/2014/05/hollow-soul.html

Nicotine

A Conversation: Part 2

Usman:
Lungs filled up with swirling smoke
Heart beats dimmer with each stroke
Life drains out of me and yet
Each puff finds me more awoke

Sai:
A puff that borrows breaths from the future...
One moment at the cost of many
You may as well rejoice, strive, and die at that moment
Than to live with faith and be fed by hope... 

_______________________________________

Reference: 
Awakening: http://tillad.blogspot.in/2014/05/awakening.html

A Conversation

It started with these words and then there was no looking back. I made a pact with my friend, Usman. According to the pact, we can only reply to each other through poetry. And that gave birth to this "conversation". Traces of which you would see in the upcoming posts. So watch this space for more!