BIRTH TIES..

Consangunity has no value

They remain as drawings  on the water.

A stream that drifts between birth and death;

A line on the water in the river of life.

In the heavenly systems that orbits in the universe

Drawing near and  drift away shuddering in its course.

In an isle of earth and inside an inn there

I am just a guest; just a strange guest only.

I can hear on one side mirthful laughter;

On the other whimpering in grief and cries.

Who is the custodian of this inn?

God or Satan? Or God and God only...

KUNJUBI

THE UMBILICAL CORD

History is an umbilical cord
That entwine around the neck like a noose
While we sleep and dream.
The tapping sound of the boots
Running through the chest
Are the sounds of hoofs on cobble stones.

Somebody have blackened the truths
And somebody have white washed the lies
And together they formed as wrinkles 
On the forehead and formed a blackhole 
No light can penetrate and expose.

When the Orion blinks its eye for a jiffy
The footsteps falters and the earth underneath
Is washed away making a fierce sound.

The head stones in the cemetary
Only reveals the date of births and deaths.
But never account the events that happened
In the past, nor the changes in political maps
Nor the boundaries of kingdoms or empires.

History is an umbilical cord
That entwine around the neck like a noose
While we sleep and dream.
When the noose tightens and we suffocate
For air to breath , may be the present
Will beckon us to join and find ourselves amidst it.
Till then will wait and see......

KUNJUBI