The spoken word on our beautiful generation

Do i feel strongly,
About anything?
Nothing, nothing nothing
Not even strongly about this word
Repeating, singing repeating
for the sake of a cause I can no longer remember,
No longer care about anything but December
Why? Why?
It’s my birthday, that’s why?
Am i arrogant, selfish, conceited, like a teenage girl
Don’t care again, again
This I ask eveytime
You ask me anything
I have embraced the modern pop culture
Of not caring, of not giving a damn
Of not giving any fucks, of ain’t having no jam
Don’t care, did I say it already?
Well who cares?
Apparently no one
We’re a mass movement of anarchy
Of lost history and geography
born from fear, capitalism and a state of democracy
Is it democracy?
The lines are all blurring,
even my speech is s l u r r i n g
What an excellent way to show
I don’t care,
I dont care
I’ll be on my way
Going along a road, that has been well formed by the million footsteps that preceded me.
The long road not taken is
overrated, overrated
Hop on this bandwagon
We’re all sheeps of the same fleece
Raze us, graze us
We eat the same weeds, the same grass
Fiber, moral fiber. what is that?
We understand money,
Bitcoins, dollars and cash,
blank cheques and pots of gold,
There’s nothing here
the soul long sold
Don’t care, don’t care
empty flesh, empty heart
This is our end, and this is our start
We’re walled minds for humanity’s sake
We roll, smoke, snort and bake
Rotting skin and pink entrails
daddy’s dying in metal jail
Who cares?
None of us do,
We’re the blossoming generation
of a dying world.

Krishna’s pen

image

You’re the only one I truly love
Don’t you know that you silly girl
When I’m pulling away
Their pots of water
And drying clothes
They’re pulling away
At my cheeks and ears
Cursing at me and shouting
Do you pause then
To see who they’re shouting at
Or do you go on your way
Resolutely carrying the pot of water
The mole below your lip
Droplets of sweat
Dance on your neck

Your hips swing
Carrying the weight of the pot
As you struggle to keep
The dupatta on your head
Do you stop then?
To look at the mischievous boy
Who has all the gopis
Huffing and puffing
And feeling flushed

Why do you still sit that way?
Not meeting my eyes
Still jealous and angry
Not letting me hold you
Making me restless
How can you abstain
From air and from water?
Now do you understand
This predicament of mine
How can I abstain from you?

Stubborn strong willed woman
I keep telling you
These gopis were my tools
To catch your attention
Oh Radha,
I’m a fool
I still am that young naive boy
Who used to seek your attention then
And still seeks it now 

This poem is based on the mythological lore of Radha and Krishna, both of whom are avidly worshipped in the Hindu culture. They were portrayed as childhood lovers who were later separated (in popular mythology).

R.S.