Wednesday, May 6, 2015

ശ്രീദേവിക്കും, കെ.പി ബാലനും




മുഖം നഷ്ടപ്പെട്ടവരുടെ സൗഹൃദയിടം
ഫേസ്ബുക്ക്, എന്നിട്ടും ബാലൻ
ശ്രീദേവിയെ തേടിക്കൊണ്ടേയിരുന്നു.
ആയിരങ്ങൾ സൗഹൃദലിസ്റ്റിൽ
ഇടംപിടിക്കുന്ന ഫേസ്ബുക്കിൽ
ഇവരിരുവർക്ക് തങ്ങളിൽത്തങ്ങളിൽ
മാത്രം തിളയ്ക്കും സൗഹൃദം.

കുളക്കടവിലെ ഇരുട്ടിൽ, തണുപ്പിൽ
വരാൽ വരയ്ക്കും പായൽഭൂപടങ്ങളിൽ,
പഞ്ചാരവാക്കുകളിൽ, പായാരങ്ങളിൽ
പ്രണയം തേടിയലഞ്ഞ് അവൾ.
കാതോരത്തെ പാട്ടിൻ പല്ലവിയിലേറി,
പറായാൻ മറന്ന പ്രണയവചനങ്ങളുടെ
പരവതാനിയിലേറി, പറയാതെപറഞ്ഞ
വാക്കുകൾ പാട്ടിലൊളിപ്പിച്ച് അവൻ.

കാലങ്ങൾക്കപ്പുറം ഫേസ്ബുക്ക് പറയുന്നു,
പ്രണയിച്ചതെന്തുകൊണ്ടെന്നോ-
ഇല്ലെങ്കിലിന്നത്തെ നമ്മളില്ല, നെഞ്ചിലെ
കൊഞ്ചലിൽ കവിതയില്ല. പുതുകാലമില്ല.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Come n dig Bombs out of my Pillow


Come n dig Bombs
Out of my pillow.
Just hold on,
Just pause the scenes
Of that same old night
We fought with
Ajmal Amir Kasab.
Insane night at CST.
Men melt before
Machine guns.
Blood oozes out of
That terminal and
Merges with the tears
Of Arabian Sea.

The face of that
Little boy Kasab.
How can he handle
A machine gun?
How can he fire
At the hearts of
My innocent men.

I can feel his stare
In the brooding darkness
Under my sheets,
Where I hide myself
From further RDX attacks.

I fear bombs.
I fear comrades.
I fear red, blood.
Bloody machine guns.
Its magazine looks like
My old Tiffin box.
Today, the tiffin boxes
Of my kinder garten
Kids carry bomb.
They call it Tiffin Bombs.

Killer Kasab,
For which race do
You fight for.
For which cause.
Come Kasab,
You can dig Bombs
Out of my pillow.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

Communist Pacha


Communist Pacha
.
.Money weaves the matrix.
Anybody can co-sponsor
REVOLUTION
Repack it, re-label, and
export across the border.
Comrade, what if you
rip apart humans,
you kill for the minority!
It's halal.


Monday, October 27, 2008

Newage Loveletter


Lady, how can i write you
love poems at this hour.
How can i ogle
with this fiery night.
In its workshop,i can hear
loud hunger cries.
Men die like flies
embracing the fire.
In this night's furnace
we can boil our blood
to celebrate till dawn.
Let’s teach our hungry
peasants some
romantic verse.
And then sell their appetite.
Let their alarming cries
inspire more poets and poems.
And their throbs be the
alliterations.And, dear,
wait till the new dawn
for my love packed
words ahead.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

To paint a sky of our own


The tint we craved to
paint a sky of our own
.
i can see the dawn
in your drowning look.
i can feel the twilight
in your sparkling eye.
red mixed with orange
the tint we craved for,
to paint a sky of our own.
we sink in the darkness
sometimes, we blow
ourselves into the flames.
yet we know the whole
burning sky is the part
of big conspiracy,
for, the darkness is on
its way to sink us all.

through your eyes
i see a part of myself
a generous part
afforded by you, love
and in my eyes
perhaps you see a
part of yourself too.
those parts that
make us reach
into each other’s soul

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Kuttammama, Marx n' Angels



Kuttammama, Marx n' Angels
.
Mordern men even mock Marx, before
Dollars dropped. The Capital economy
doesnt find worth at the writings
of Marx and Engels till the day the Global
Market stoops down. Now the
Neo- liberalism turns to be a nightmare.
Marx is once again placed in our reading table,
in our modern mindsets and in our million Dollar dreams.
so,for all the lost causes
for the unsung martyrs
for Kuttammama,
Marx n’ Angels
"Communism"
In its ideal form,
social classes cease to exist,
there are no coercive
governmental structures,
and everyone lives
in abundance
without supervision
from a ruling class.
hence, not for
Achuthananthan
n’ Pinarayi

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Between Marx and more Marx


A generation caught between
friends and acquaintances;
Between love and making out
Between Marx and more Marx
I am the lost one

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

The Rains Drive in a New Fever



that much fresh earth i cannot accredit
that much fleshy mount mind hesitates to climb.
The rains drive in a new fever.
As the falling rain trickles among the stones
memories come bubbling out.
It's as if the rain had pierced my temples.
Streaming, streaming chaotically
come memories:the reedy voice of the servant
telling me tales of ghosts.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Do not worry



Mad days are on the move
On the wake of deep worries.
Deep burns bleeding inside
Daring is my way back to home.

Monday, May 19, 2008

tortoise (my) race formulae.


my tortoise formulae will
win all the races one day.
i will wait until my doom
crawl upto me.
that is all i call, my life.

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

death,dare not


kadammanitta (1935-2008)
M.R. Ramakrishnan Panicker, popularly known as Kadammanitta Ramakrishan,
was born on 22nd of March 1935 in an orthodox family at Kadammanitta in Pathanamthitta, Kerala. After completing BA from Changanasseri NSS College, in 1958 he set out for a journey to Assam in search of employment. His first posting was as a Lower Division Clerk in Postal Audit and Accounts Departmentat ,Madras on 20.02.1959. He retired from the service on 31.03.1992 as Accounts Officer.
Shanta is his wife.
Kadammanitta Ramakrishnan started writing poems at the age of 14. Ramakrishnan was a member of the unified Communist party and was known as a revolutionary poet and orator. He was elected to the Kerala Assembly as a LDF backed independent.
Deceased on 31st of March 2008.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

red rushes to green



rotten revolution packed in rags.
reaping lots rush to chop heads.
once i beleive
i ‘ll die as a communist.
now i hate being red.

still i m a communist.
a communist commoner
.

Sunday, March 16, 2008

blood, cheaper than water


kill me ‘n kindle me
with your kindest remarks.
click my beheaded dreams
to display well in your dailies.
I may too be canonised
as your true martyr.
kingdom of martyrs
‘ll come.
butcherer’s votebanks
and its bloody impressions
spread everywhere.
ha, ha connecting Canannore,
incredible India
Beatic Modi Vision,
Marvellous Marxists.
let thier world be blood,
cheaper than water

Saturday, March 15, 2008

It rains every night


Dried up
washed away
unattended to forgotten
It rains every night

Thursday, March 6, 2008

i hung on her every word


like a long rushing train.
she talked for a long time.
i hung on her every word

Wednesday, March 5, 2008

why did i talk HOME


each time u hold me tight
it rains inside me
for, i know a long summer is in the offing.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

one for her n other for her



post amoeba,
pity being nuclear.
fusions, fissions
everything turns fiction.


Monday, February 18, 2008

terra-cota painted faces


terra-cota painted faces
multi- faceted crises,
terra-cota painted faces
all around.
me a scoundrel caring for none.

Saturday, February 16, 2008

8 coloumns X 52 cms


8 coloumns X 52 cms
.
life in a news desk
confines to 8 coloumns.
this 8 col width and
52 cms height
define the world.
when these coloumn bars
mutates to iron bars
pretty nights come to ogle
with it's clients.

lust; only lust


lust; only lust

until i met her, i thought
lust is what we call love.
now i know. even lamp posts
can love each other.
looking together eyes to eyes
sans touching together
they smile at each other.
she said they are in love.

cease to be a Caeser


this queue ends with me.
and the end queues with me.
then, who cares for a new beginning.
i say, lost never found.

Friday, February 15, 2008

amma


amma and amma
is my breath entire.
i use to call her my girlfriend,
my subtle way ahead.

gen X wars


gen X wars

.
the third world war will be fought with
stones and thorns- einstein said.
i v fought all my furies
with drumsticks.
that all it means- the fourth world

god's own miseries


god's own miseries

onam amidst an
occean of troubles.
afterall;
what's there to celebrate
when we are far away
from our dear n near.

still at the green room


still at the green room

down at the stairs
of that green room
i feel, loved.
i' m stepping down and
down that stairs
to find my dejected passions.
let there be anticlocks.

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Bylakkuppa goes to Baina goa


Bylakkuppa goes to Baina goa
@ the STD centres
.
god man
behind the bars.
saffron sinks.
real purgation takes
place there at baina beach.
lying across the laps of
my tender whores.
@ the STD centres

Just be unicellular


amoeba forever
.
I ‘m not the Holy Father,
The Son, nor the Holy Ghost.
My own Ghosts
Sent me to earth.
The journeys hunt for
My intimate passions.
We howls we hounds
Yet the search is on.
We be the ultimate n’ unending.
Beware, I were you,
Unto the grave.

lost in labyrinth



lost in labyrinth
.
sometimes
traps get trapped.
even gods get trapped.
my labyrinth is my own.
i must find the way out.



shock by water


water cannot extinguish
what the flames have written.
that's all.

back to my berth


back to my berth
.
when trapped in this pace
we crawl back.
for, i have a heaven
back at my hamlet.
one day i go and lie there
deep at my grave.
it's my route to peace.

life inside a cubicle


life inside a cubicle
.
wilkipedia says so...
Editing is the process of preparing
language, images, or sound for presentation through correction, condensation, organization, and other modifications. An important part of editing is the idea conception angle, and having the judgment to assign who does the work. Editing is therefore also a modality that applies human relations and creative skills as well.

raman n rasiya specimen




raman n rasiya specimen
.
Rasiya turns an insane sample
Under the microscope of love.
Life turns a frantic specimen
Inside the Lab of religions.
Lord Rama still hangs on.

wed to worry


wed to worry
.
years ago,i believe
i 'll marry oneday.
'nd i waited to that day,
until i hear from him
that cupid killed him.

land of looms 'n lores


looms, lores and
a sea of blood.
everything portrayed in porphyra.
heads rolls on
as if in a football match.
then the commentary goes like this
2:1 1:4 ...
the ratio goes on.


for my valentine


i nay believe in new generation
love letters. still i feel, i live within my
lover's short messages.
so this is for her, for my valentine,
for her short messaging service


Tuesday, February 12, 2008

smoooch in my terms


here we go to decontruct a smooch.
some additions
some deductions.
the whole syntax
turns inadequate.
so smooch in my terms...




time drizzles around me


time drizzles around me
slow and genteel
patient rain that cries,
for happy times ahead

half past santhosh


half past santhosh
.
longing for a crucial destiny
hopes get lost with me
do you know how terrible are
the wounds of a murdered dream
a fugitive from the realm of dreams
i will find my peace alone

.