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.