A Weird Wish

O God,
Let me be a tsunami
So I sweep and haul
These erudite vermin away
Far into a deserted hell
Thus shielding the fate
Of my people and country!

O God,
Let me be a bomb
So I blast the bastions
Of hate and hypocrisy
Thus ensuring good health
Of my functioning democracy!

O God,
Let me be a lethal potion
So I can let them sleep forever
Post their last sumptuous dinner
Thus saving the innocent commoner
From their illicit thought chamber!

O God
Let me be an alien virus
So I pick these selfish traitors
And feast on their blood
Thus quarantining the whole society
For once and all,
Thus restoring our inherent unity.

Copyright © Arun Dash. All rights reserved.

Mayhem of Your Making

You know very well,
The mayhem that’s come
Is of your own making;
Yet, your audacious self
Ascribes that to Me!
Why’d I even bother to heed?

The rank forces
You’ve unleashed
From Pandora’s box
May even devour you!
But didn’t I warn you
To touch it not?

Those brazen invocations
You offer now as prayers
To beseech Me
Head only Satan-ward.
Why’d I meddle
To solve a riddle
That I didn’t even inspire?

For, when you are lost,
And come begging before me,
With a hung head
And ample remorse,
Would I have this clue –
‘Your instant Karma alone can
Affirm your faith in Me,
And thus efface this mayhem’.

Copyright © Arun Dash. All rights reserved.

Betraying A Motherland

The boil under his feet
Is but his self-owned toil,
For who forced on him
His longing for homeland?

His tired sinew and sweaty palm
Essay a scary tale for sure;
But couldn’t he have composed
A sad, silent song
For his motherland,
Even if he had to bargain
A heap of hunger
Or loads of labour?

His motherland
That has stood by him
Always, yes always,
Begged for his help
Once, yes just once,
To fight a menace;
And all that he did –
Tender his swollen feet
Soaked in a shred of hypocrisy!

Copyright ©Arun Dash. All rights reserved.

The Hopefuls

The innocence that you fake
Using your inherited mailce
To cover the blatant lies
Would bust the Right’s patience!

The rot that you spread
Using your bot-like intellect
To derail the course of Truth
Would bury you in that rot!

See, eastward, you mindless moron!
The crimson sky is on
With HOPE riding pillion
Behind the radiant young sun!

Copyright ©Arun Dash. All rights reserved.

That Flash Spark

The flash spark
That you sent my way –
An eon ago –
Has now left me longing
For more of it!

The brush, the canvas, the paint –
All set!
A head that you must alight on,
A heart that you must pass through,
A hand that you must guide on –
All await your decree!

Defer not, my Muse,
And appear now please,
For, the fame fetched for this verse
Would be yours, all yours!

Copyright ©Arun Dash. All rights reserved.

Shell on the Shore

O, waves of the mighty ocean!
Roar more,
And more,
So your whisper
Reaches the shore!

And let the flurry of air
That you offer
Wheeze through my core,
So I would render
A melody that’s dear
For all that has ear
And a moment to spare
To immerse and hear!

[Published earlier at Different Truths]

This Too Shall Pass

Aching agony,
Shocking silence,
Curtailed freedom,
Harrowing hiatus
Too shall pass!

Silent chaos,
Subdued voice,
Ample anxiety,
Drooping amity
Too shall pass!

Pure parity,
Benign bonhomie,
Life joyful,
Peace bountiful
In the ‘paradise on earth’
Too shall amass!

Copyright ©Arun Dash. All rights reserved.

Rain Has Come But You

That summer evening,
When I was rubbing my nib
Against a blank paper,
You sounded harsh
And yelled,
You are done
For the season!

I broke the nib,
Tore the paper,
And took off!

And now that
A new season is on
And that’s of rain,
What stops you again
To alight on my parched nib
So I can flaunt
Your creation as my own
And amass some ovation?

Copyright ©Arun Dash. All rights reserved.

That Divine Response

This loggish, hoggish life isn’t
What I waited for,
So fervently,
However small it lasts!

The million prayers
I whispered in Your ears,
In Your sanctum sanctum,
I hoped, would help me
Trace the purpose
You begot me here.

Your harrowing silence,
Despite my noetic turmoil
Earned for my uncompromising,
Humanist stance that Your attorneys –
Krishna, Christ, Buddha and so – prescribe,
Thwarts my bountiful hopes
To humanize a few
Before You handpick me for
Your final embrace.

Send me, O God,
A divine response
Some mystic way
To infuse in me
The olden zeal
To live by singing and
Making others sing
Songs of praise for You.

[Published earlier in StoryMirror]

Terms of Peace

The uproars outside
Wouldn’t reach your ear!
The disquiet, the worries
Of your languid dreams
Wouldn’t even wake you up
From your deep slumber!

Hunger, spite or anger
Wouldn’t pester you
Any longer!
Your skin would rather
Get thicker and thicker!

Only then should I appear
Moments before you wonder –
Would I ever occur?

[Published earlier in StoryMirror]