Wednesday, 10 August 2011

BATTLE


In a distant country, in a wounded battlefield
Fighting hard to keep your feelings concealed
Amid shots of bullets, cannons and guns
As an enemy soldier towards you runs.

Hands on your rifle and eyes on the territory
Before you occurs, bloodshed, murder and gory
Quick, you duck to miss the grenade
And run to find some shade

Behind the little boulder you hide
Into the rifle, the bullets you slide
You say a little prayer, hum a little chant
Hoping chances you will return aren’t scant

Before you, shuffle flashcards of memory
Of home, a car, a daughter and of family
The laughter at the dinner table and the routine bedtime fable
In the life of a soldier, separation is alas a label.

So you slide out of the boulder and rush to confront the foe
As you race across the field with nothing but your toe
You jump and take a shot, you fall and land on your chest
Before you, your whole lifetime slowly arrests

You watch him fall down, you watch his soul stream out
You’ve survived the day alive, no doubt
As you heave your wounded body into the bloody cold air
You can see the dead, lifeless bodies of the people for whom you care

By and by, you think. Inside your stern heart, you cry
You look for their souls as you stare up the sky
This is the life of a soldier. This is the story of your life
A life of bravery and hardship to be a part of the strife.


Tuesday, 9 August 2011

COMA


They call me human, am I one?
All I ask God is, ‘what have you done?’
In a teakwood, old bed lays my hide
Often I think,’ Isn’t it just better if I died?’

My skin’s paled down and my eyes are weary
Everyone who visit me often leave teary
Bound I am to my six-walled confinement
To remain alive-my only assignment.

They call me comatose, they call me vegetable
This is what you would be if your neurons would disable
My nurse cleans me, my nurse feeds me
I’m crying, oh world, why can’t you free me?

To me, there’s no morning or night
I can’t distinguish between darkness and light
A functionless body with its soul intact
Bedsores and sympathy is all I attract.

I see God calling me at the end of the tunnel
My life’s draining out through the end of the funnel
Soon, I’ll be liberated from my life of numbness
And I’ll join the world of intense happiness.