The Dollar Beds

The Dollar Beds .

To repay my obligation on this earth ,

The wild orgy behind my birth ,

My Natural had the whim to wade ,

The cozy-cosmos dollar beds .


Who cares Time if time passes away ?

In gleeful green of the first May ,

With moral burden on an inborn gay ?

And dub orgasm in  a composite bay .


The kings ask for the virgins to comply ,

The priests approve the residues of the prize ,

The gang-man ,hang-man ,the trumpet-major ,

Blinding blunder operate the procedure ,

To be dollared by bed  in prancing shades ,

Who needs bed-lock where beds are free ,

As if a leased forest with thousand trees ,

For Honey invites the money ,

Like the cry of a sale with no farewell !


I never thought to create a reason ,

The Black snake and the tigress are in the prison ,

They hear no word of the foolish bards ,

But bear the forbidden hell in their hearts .





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Dear , my time victorious Love ,
I live , as you are always with me ,
Your absence is every thing’s negation ,.

For you, pains find glory,
Love roots fresh flower ,
Hope reigns the tomorrow’s dream ,

For you the fuel and ashes,
Withstand deprecations ,
Without You , void is all notions .

In your departure, the day’s deeds die,
A phantom floats in phantom-sky .

Haply this world is furled with your filial tie,
Alloyed with thy care , and enchanted in dye .

In thousands dumb thy face peeps,
He who loves you , thy fruits he reaps .

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Deeds On Altar Of Faith . Something needs to be done , Something leave behind , Foot-prints of love , On the unwashed sands of time . Something to show , By dint of honest labour , Unasked service to fellow comrades , And a response to cry for help , That with pitiful faces , around you hover . Revelation through conscience , In the deeds that make your character , Would be what where Dreams fear to tread , A skeleton you would be in trillions’ retreats . Something such as to win the Death , Is to post the self on the altar of Faith .

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Faith In Sri Ramakrishna

Faith’s Seed .
Declared she at the age of twenty ,
Hey ,-me ! No profit I can earn ,
Save the whirlwinds and burns ,
Of the rooted parasites of so many lives ,
Yes, with my stay on Sri Ramakrishna ,
I would erase , evacuate and wipe .

Subsistence , help , worldly support !
The emotional irony of daily deaths ,
The borrowed learning for trickery and beguile ,
Smile away I , for Sri Ramakrishna’s profile .

I would reform my mind , as the captain of the body ,
And translate my prayers into blooming lotus ,
Therein , in my inner shrine , share the touch ,
Of the aura-oriented divine universe .

Faith she proclaims ,demands neither ‘yes’ nor ‘no’ ,
It is the calm acceptance of God’s will ,as life goes .
And Maa, Sarada ,the Divine mother opens her lap to hold ,
Yes , yes , I would go abreast with my crazy wild ,and be bold .

I would continue the digging of my self -well ,
Earthling the sediments of Sanaskar , till the water-level comes ,
And then ,with the opening of the timeless Unconscious ,
I would mingle ,and dissolve in Sri Ramakrishna’s touch !!!

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Arpita -The Eternal Oasis

The miraculous Rose ,
Speaks of no prose ,
But silently tinges her glow !

The abstract Divine ,
Therein shines ,
And glimmers Love’s flow !

‘Timeless’ treasure you are ,
And do hold beauty’s peace ,
Ah! Love you are my eternal oasis !!!

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The Great ‘This’

The Great “ This” .
The honorable chief minister hoisted this ,
This would bring salvation and bliss ,
This no one realized before ,
This would open an enlightened door ,
What more can I say of this ,
This is really a grand wish .

I honor the leadership and feel it real ,
Said the party secretary from feathered quill ,
This would transect better monitory deal .
This foundation stone will share and bear ,
The will of the chief minister o-my dear .

The district president rose his voice ,
This will be helpful in many ways ,
I never saw a greater this than as it is
This is the first this in last thirties .

An unconventional Aloof gave a cry ,
To know what ‘this’ is ,I try and try ,
I now feel ‘this’ is a great mystery ,
Upon this ‘this’ runs the political history .

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The Chaff y Poet



No river of suffering I did wade ,

I read books ,and lecture made ,

I did not have the chemistry to react ,

I am a product of conventional track . .


I had no gypsy friends ,

Nor had I sweat-oozed farmer ,

Never did I open my social status ,

I did not borrow the grass-root touch .


No tears of mine shared the fallen girl ,

Never I picked the way-side pearls ,

And service but self I could not know ,

In my poetry my scholarly humors go .


I manipulate society of high profiles ,

With oily-tongue, contrived conference ,

And coordinator of anthology I beguile ,

I bribe the Power to sail my will .


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