Poetry : Waiting for Bhudha

Poet: Nobody

Man is a prisoner of circumstances.
No new born baby asks for a name, but named.
Never wishes  to be dressed but dressed .
Never cries for a gold ring and chain, but chained.
Tradition is the First Addition and Addiction.

Family,  Workplace and Society
Are the Controllers of Examinations of my life.
Family commits me and steals my time to share and care.
Workplace commands and squeezes me to its demands.
Society convinces and programmes me to nurture its culture.
Man moves from one open jail to another 24 X 7.

Education is suffocation to man.
No tree but only man is taught a language
To grow up,  blossom and be fruit’full'.
No bird goes to school in uniform with ID card
To learn how to build its nest,
Or to be skilled to find the food at its best.
Teachers mesmerised, I memorized.
Many teachers,  many books,  many classes,
Many years,  many exams,  many certificates,
What I remember now is nothing.
All have become helpless to know who I am.
I passed in exam but failed in life.

Man is a prey to his desires.
Wanna marry a girl?
You are drowned and doomed for ever into marriage bond.
Then cry,  “I fall upon the thorns of life,  I bleed. “
Wanna become a collector?
“The power that crowns you
Also crucifies you.”
Wanna become a celebrity or a billionaire ?
“When sorrows come,  they come not in single spies,
But in battalions. “
Man builds his own prison with bricks of Desire.

Man is a victim to his beliefs.
The buds live with beliefs.
Martyrs die for beliefs.
Hitlers kill for beliefs.
Bhudhas who flower
Carry fragrance of truth everywhere,
Have no beliefs of God,  Heaven and Hell.

Man is a slave to his mind,
The pestering Chatterbox,
The Gardener of Vaulting Ambitioms,
The Programmer of eternal habits,
The Dictator of  daily life,
The Satan of devilish thoughts,
The Master of all who sleep 24 x7.

Man is still waiting for Bhudha.

Poem: "Nothing" is everything

Poet : Nobody

"Nothing" is everything
Since everything is in nothing.

If there is no nothingness in a room,
Can you keep a sofa in it?
Can you keep your cot in it?
Can you keep yourself in it?
Can you walk or move or run,
Without nothingness around you?
If there is no nothingness, 
You and I will have to stick to wall.
Nothingness is a martyr,
Sacrificing its space for the existence of all.

I love a book.
Not for the writer,
Not for its message,
Not for the rare words poured from the pen, 
But for the egoless space in the page,
Between any two paragraphs,
Between any two words,
Between any two letters.
Because, without space,
All letters and words will join together
And conspire for the murder of the book.

I never enjoy a melodious song
But the silence from which they are born,
The silence Into which they suicide, frequently,
Mysteriously, secretly,  escaping everyone’s notice.
Without silence,  sounds cannot exist,
Without sounds, language cannot exist,
Without language,  humanity cannot exist .
Silence and nothingness, 
The Made-for-each-other eternal couple,
Visit you to wash out your stress.
Keep silent and have nothing in your mind.

I never like the beautiful sunlight,
But the darkness that exists before and after it.
Animals loved it, held no fire, rested their souls.
Birds loved it,  Paid no e. b  bill,  rested their souls.
The whole world rejuvenated with peace in darkness.
Man rejoiced at light,  burned,  danced,
drowned in pleasure till midnight , restlessly.
Was there light in mother’s womb?
Weren’t you comfortable then?
Light cannot live without darkness
And has to die everlastingly into it.
God is permanent
‘Nothing’ is permanent.
Darkness is permanent.
Then which is darkness and which is light?
Which idiot compared ignorance to darkness ?

‘Nothing’ is the answer for all unanswered questions.
Where were you before birth?  In nothing.
Where will you go after death?  Into nothing.
(Isn’t life then a journey from nothing to nothing?)
Where did all trees,  fruits and flowers come from?
From the nothing inside the seed.
Where did the universe come from?  Nothing.
What will they become one day?  Nothing.
(Dear  Shakespeare, how can you say “nothing will come out of nothing. “?
Why do people run madly after money?  For nothing.
Why do people live for?  Nothing.
Anything want to say further?  Nothing.

Nothing is everything
Since everything is in nothing.

Poem: OhTime, Thou art so beautiful!

Poet: Nobody

When was Time born?
Tell me its Date of Birth.
Which is the First Year?
Which is the last year ?
Or has Time no beginning?
Has it no end?

Yesterdays and tomorrows are Time‘s play!
Yesterday’s name was today yesterday.
Today’s name was tomorrow yesterday.
Tomorrow’s name is today tomorrow.
How dare they to change their name without gazette notification!

Miss. Past is a mysterious mire.
Hey  gentlemen Present and Future,
Stop,  where are you going?
“Miss.past is nearby, she will suck you in,”
I warned.
They said,
“Men may come,  men may go,
We will go on forever. “

“Hey  Mr.  Today ,  where are your four children-
Morning,  Afternoon,  Evening and Night?”
Asked I.
I’ve only one son,  whose
Name only people change few hours once! “
Said he.
“Then,  is Now your step son? “
“No,  he is my son’s shadow,
And mine too. “

What about Calender and Watch?
They are your lovers,  people say.
Frauds, poor knaves are they.
Cut me into pieces with knife,
Unfit are they ever to have wife.
Without fail,  they daily write me mail.
But put me rather in jail.
Formally dressed, winding and minding me with strain
All but to understand and use me in vain.

Even a rail,  rests for a while.
Why are you restlessly running?
Idiot! Referring to me,
Only you people are running for winning.
Not I, only earth and stars are spinning.
I’m nothing, you only called me something.
I’m standstill.  Only this clock is running with your will.
I’m neither young nor old.
Being moneyminded, You only compared me with gold.

I’m no more when the humanity is no more. 
Believe me,  I’m Really the unreal.
You only coined me, named me, used me and juiced me.
To outlet your tension,  you scolded me Bad Time.
To mention your pension, you praised me Good Time.
You needed my past to bury your worry.
You seeded my future to rape your desires.
I’m not what I’m Since you find me only in your mind.,
Being alive only in your knowledge,  experience,
In your Maths and History books,
In your memory and dreams. “

“Hello dear,  when are you planning to get up?
Today is our daughter’s birth day.
Yesterday you promised to give a gift, you know.  Don’t forget.
She is our Future. “ my wife awakened me in the morning.

Poem: “I” wants to die!

Poet: Nobody

Who created “I”?
God? Or Mom and Dad?
Or I?  Or My EGO?
Or English Teacher? 
Or All these Joining Together Cunningly ?

I must be better.
I must become better.
My Teachers belted me.
My parents melted me.
My religion washed me.
My wife dashed me.
Only Existence Exists.
How can I make I better
If I don’t find I?

I copied and became He,  She,  They,
X,  Y,  Z
And finally to copy I at present,
I was absent.
Perhaps  I have to delete the so called I?

I belong to this selfie, that old image,
I belong to this wife,  that old lover,
I belong to this country, that post,
This name,  that ph.d,
I belong to Everybody and Everything
Or Nobody and Nothing?

I locked and secured
My e-mails,   my internet bank account,
My car,  my mobile,  my laptop,
My Cash Almira,  my home,
I even insured I,
But CCTV footage was helpless!
I lost I.

To be nobody is better than
To be somebody in nature.
To have nothing is better than
To have something unreal.
To say no is better than
To say yes with a fuss.
I’m born
When “I” dies.