A former college teacher in India and now in finance, A. Thiagrajan lives in Mumbai.
© 2006 A.Thiagarajan
air we breathe
dread of days to come
glorified, standardised, made the norm
social scientists, politicians, all
few who don't agree are minority..
was a bloodless violence no physician willing to treat..
chased seen on the scrolls of honour in the lands they fled to..
the Dow Jones and the ess and pees..
saviours of the chasers who still
the dead alive
air still is full of senseless denial
Smile In His Sleep
in his sleep
A bend around the tiny little clutch
Sleep, hands across above his head.
I bent over to cover him with a sheet
He pushed it aside with mumbling unclear
A big broad fulfilling smile his lips convey
What could it be for ?
What dreams & worlds you are in?
No son, I don't wake you up to see...
No world or dream for us
Sans any admonishing psalm, a sweatless brow
Sans fences and frontiers
Happy you fly in the realms and skies
With no care for towers nor the runway
No wings that clip over time
For my part-
the only thing I can do
Is not to wake you up
For any food or fruit-nor milk
Nor to me and the likes of me.
All work is property of A.Thiagarajan.
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