The Eye of the Tiger

The universe has one eye

That sees all

Seen by none

Existential Insomnia

A sleepless night

Abnormal dreams

Howling wolves

Dark moon

Darker clouds

Burning innards

I was thirsty for the strange caresses

Of the night.

Fell asleep towards the morn

As the dawn curled and crawled

And crept up

Like white smoke

And knocked cheerless

At my door.

Nabokov’s Hellish Island

I remember the tale

Of a twelve year old

Found naked and dead

In the woods

On the edge of the town

Let us skip the unseemly details

Let it suffice

That the little mortal

Did not die a death

Deserved by her untainted soul

Let us also add

That the predator

Did not deserve the name

Of a lion or vulture or scavenger

For Thou had hollowed his soul out

Before he could look

Towards where his destiny

Had been carved and sealed

Like his heart

With a knife of glinting steel

For the cliffs, the cliffs

The cliffs of hell

Called had him away

Unshod of her shroud

Unloved of her lust

Don’t envy the fate of my beautiful darling

Tied up like a wooded doll

To her weeping cot

Raped against the wall.

Other loins purloined

The due of my loins my darling.

Orphans’ Mahabharata

The world without end

Traversed Thee

In steps thrice.

The two little sisters

Aborned of the orphaned

Widowed mother

Remembered

The pretty little doll’s house

With its small bright lamp.

Arjuna the archer great

Lost his courage

And the slippery eel vanished

Into the oceans great.

The two little sisters and Arjuna

Knew naught of each other

The two little sisters

In Nabokov’s hellish island

On time thrown away

Like husks to the wind.

Arjuna’s wounded light was salved by

Krishna, the rock of thy eye

But the glitter

Of the tussle

Of thy world

Blinded the two little ones.

And she

The little on e

Clutched the dirty hem

Of sister’s frock

And crawled down the craggy rocks

To Mother River

And the tussle of thy world

Glittered evermore

As the widowed mother

Beat her guts

On the rocky banks

Of the flowing Mother River

And the sisters shed salt tears

Down the tongue

Into the river

And the oceans vast

To perstruct thy exquisite pearls.

As the world without end

Thee traversed

In steps thrice.

Lovely were the tresses of mother

Of Mother River

Strangers to each other

Were Arjuna

And the sisters

And the tresses and tears

Both mingled

Into the rivers

And oceans

As the mother

With her two little daughters

Mourned by Mother River.

For once the insulted tale

Lilted to the World Ears

And he looked into the river

Reddened of horror old

The gils affright

Screamed at nights.

Ha our tale,

Woe our tale,

Must not remain untold

For she our mother

Will curse our soul

If the corpse were unburied left.