A letter to God

O Lord! I feel where you dwell: in corners
or on walls; in the streets or on tall tower-tops –
you are not beyond my ken
but you pretend you are a million miles away…
you just see the way stone statues do.

But oh!
MISERIES WE LIVE; MISERIES WE DIE.
We’re entangled on the hooks of questions that you,
and only you, can uncurl. Lord,
O Lord!
Your world is but half unfinished.
You have left everything in a mess!
Are we to finish it with our miseries
of minds and hearts?
Are we to act for you?

I’m surprised how you just see your creation roll down
and down
I’m surprised how you just see your children
grow wilder each passing day.

While I’m awake, you seem to be asleep
While I’m mad, you seem to be carefree
While I’m begging for your attention, you seem to be preoccupied
Oh Lord! What obliges you to latch your compassion?

I fear you might spot me for my grumble
But this is what I have to ask you for your grace.
Your eternal serenity, silence or peace
is what we all need, Oh Lord!

This soul has waited for so long for your smiling glance!
Keep me on your lap.
Show me the way forth.
Humanity, my love, is so desperate to dance in your kingdom!

Your world has resorted to
such dangerous paths
of clashes
between religions
between cultures
between impulses of devilish hungers.
I reckon man is to reverse his way
and join the Nazis’ uproar
or kill himself for a side of a coin.
Oh Lord! Isn’t there any limit
to your toleration?

You mustn’t be silent, O Lord!
You live in every breath of our lives:
you are a beggar; you are a billionaire
you are so generous; you are so mean –
every story has you, the silent side,
at the rear or in deep
letting go things unnoticed
and uncontrolled.

How could you be dead
when I can intensely feel you?
Come forth, my Lord!
Take back
the power from our miserable lives!
We are bad at giving and we are bad at taking.
That is the only problem we have been living.
Lord, come forth and release us from our guilt-ridden psyche!

- Chiranjibi Niroula

(featured in the poetry forum 01.07.12)

editor's note: Our earthly brain tweakers and soul preachers can't answer these questions, though good they are. We trust celestial answers are pending in frequencies our fragile ears can register. Shush now... listen. - mh

Waiting the Cool

I

I remember I was sturdy enough,
The multifarious chores were effortless for me,
I used to drive and drag the cart,
Carrying weighty loads was nothing for me,
During the day in the scorching sun,
I wasn’t influenced from sweating and fatigue,
My frame was as hard as iron,
My heart was extended enough,
I used to sleep around the streets,
My vision was too clear,
I used to see my world,
Where I was the hero around,
Life was so free,
I used to roam any nook of my world,
There was no chain of command upon me,
I used to be arrogant on me,
There was no worry in my psyche,
My horizontal expectancy was on my soul,
That used to rejuvenate me.

II

I know my heart is shrinking now,
It pumps differently,
My vision is leaving me,
It pains me and I feel dry into it,
My frame is putrefying and rotting,
I am stooped now and becoming shorter,
My muscles are blemishing and fading,
I see the wrinkles are teasing me,
My entire status is the centre of all diseases,
I’m waiting the day,
My life is as like the setting sun,
I shelter with homogeneity to me,
My life is as the dew against dawn,
I have countless uneasiness,
I feel the frost in my heart,
Now I wait the day-the end!

- Chiranjibi Niroula

(featured in the poetry forum 10.25.11)

editor's note: Doesn't have to be "the end" - keep that "horizontal expectancy" on your soul. Be cool! - mh

Beggar: The Natural Identity

I'm a beggar,
I beg street to street,
door to door,
Some people neglect me,
I become unhappy and despondent,
Because I have my own leadership,
I want to lead my own life in my own way,
I don't bother someone who neglects me,
Do I? Never!
Some people applaud me,
I become exultant,
I become ecstatic and jovial,
Because they know my leadership as like theirs,
Someone calls me the unwanted,
And they say I am the load for the earth,
But if I'm not in the earth,
How do they show the difference between me and them?
I'm satisfied for my life,
Because I have to just beg,
I appreciate others’ leadership so I beg to them.
I don't have any other chores to do,
The God has created me for the same,
Because He has confirmed my identity,
So I have to represent it ever in my life.
I don't have clothes to put on,
The winter is my enemy,
It chills me and it makes me dead,
I lie over and under the mist and snow,
Passers come and cross me kicking,
They think me a log,
Rich come in Mercedes and strike me,
They back the gear and turn around,
The temple grins and laughs at me,
I feel the hard time!
I see others are also executing their rights,
Then, why not for me?
Justice and mercy of the God is the same,
For all of us,
Why am I a beggar and
Why are you rich?
I only know the reason!
Do you know? No..
The nature is mine not yours,
Because it's dearer to me,
It is close to me,
You are enjoying the artificial things,
But I survive in natural ones,
Your life is like a machine,
Anytime it turns down,
But mine? It runs much longer.
You discriminate others, I not.
Because I’m just a beggar!
You are not one unlike me!

- Chiranjibi Niroula

(featured in the poetry forum 09.12.11)

Drizzle

I drizzle.
I am sensitive though jovial.
I explore this enthusiasm,
though I foresee the line between acme and abyss.
I yearn to amble into it, through it.
I flutter and envision the humanity.

This drizzle enters further into my body,
It electrifies me, and I am myself.
This drizzle allows me to ignore mockery
And send it far off.
Oh, now I am liberated.

I acquaint my vagueness.
My insightful cuts of string,
Then I bound up to pinnacle.
My nerves are free,
Then I appreciate my supremacy.

The drizzle further congeals me,
Oh, how serene! Such harmony!
My life is mine, not for others to live,
I covet only this.
There is no lump, no dominion.

I become myself not through others.
I am further stimulated and I smile.
I stretch out.
As I trace and boost this inner realm.

This is congruity for social progress.
It storms away the subjugation.
The drizzle creates the new hegemony,
Then my soul is justified.

- Chiranjibi Niroula

(featured in the poetry forum 11.29.10)

Liberated Soul

I burn inflammably
You gaze at me silently
I whimper aloud
You pretend unheard
My heart beats at my mind
I snarl, hoping you put off the flame
You turn contradictorily instead.

The flame amplifies me
My shriek ambushes me
I quiver horribly
You titter at me
I think you’re my redeemer
But all in vain I find you’re an ogre
So I sprint away from you.

My bosom isn’t your turf,
Where you course the horse race
Nor my legs are your veer,
That you presuppose to maneuver,
I distinguish your masquerade
I let me burn but I don’t either surrender
I course my voyage for emancipation.

The flame enters into me
But my identity’s solidified
I swear I must be inflexible on my oath
My body burns
But my soul flees to zenith
Hooray I’m liberated!
You look like the cinders of my reminders.

- Chiranjibi Niroula

(added 11.29.10)

Python Pythons

Beating stones a stony boy hammers his nails.
He is mysterious about doctors and hospitals.
He puts herbal drops and wraps his wounds.
He can’t care bleeding and continues his chores.
He envisages joining school.
He is unaided for education; that supports him?
He stares around and locates a python swallowing a buffalo.
The dreadful scene qualms his existence and he runs away.
His life is as life of buffalo in python’s cavity.
He doesn’t get education as the buffalo doesn’t get a rescue.
He cries for liberation to rid of deficiency, illiteracy and incongruity.
Oppression and neglect ambush him as buffalo by python.
His complexities sway him for rejoining his charge.
He assembles at far-off, where part of day is a day.
Nature is also iniquitous to him as she stands wintry.
Oh fair! Where is humanism and universalism for him?

The new site is his verve, his instruction and his cosmos!
He wrestles with flood and fuming watercourse.
He might dream for his idol endeavors, mightn’t he?
But in vain, he is in sequence of paltry and prejudice.
He resembles communication to his heavenly dwellers.
He supplies the materials to build up the courtyards.
But he is down-and-out and unplaced.
He presupposes the blue over him is his roof.
He presumes his paucity is as like the python.
Python pythons of his adversities are his outrageous veracities.
He weeps; he cries but beats the stones, the rocks.
Shocking wounds slay his lines of palms.
He doesn’t discern who a palmist is!
He ne’er identifies what a kismet is!
He witnesses python of pythons in societies.
He stumbles at myriad giant pythons in his world.

He prays to his power.
Oh, superman! Oh strength! Oh equitable jury!
Where are you?
Would you come to exterminate me?

- Chiranjibi Niroula

© Copyright 2010

(featured in the poetry forum 07.20.10)

eye

Wow eyes! What a grand a visualization you have.
My heart shudders from you.
Eye lashes boogie around you.
Lips smirk on you.
What supremacy is on you!
The global is perceptible.
The indistinguishable is foreseen.
Everything is unclothed on you.
Exquisiteness is with you.
Dreadful is with you.
Why do you have color?
Some are black,
Some are blue,
Some are many and diverse..
I know you are one, but you’re countless too.
You see similar and disconnected.
You are prejudice.
You are candid.
You are gluttonous.
You are kind.
I don’t know what you are!
You are in harmony.
You are in hostilities.
You are in brutality.
You are in forgiveness.
You are universal.
You are still.
You are antagonistic.
I’m confused where you are.
Why aren’t you unique in humanism?
You fashion clash.
You origin terror.
You broaden friendship.
You break out fideism.
You magnetize and deter others.
I think you are to be matching in all.

- Chiranjibi Niroula

(featured in the poetry forum 03.31.10)

Life

You are very inexplicable, I can’t delineate you.
You are very extreme, I can’t accomplish you.
You are with me, I can’t discern you.
Why you are a dispute!

You are at abyss, I want to convene you.
You are at acme, I want to scale you.
You are at Varsity, I want to predict you.
Why you are abstract!

Are you contentment in security?
Then who is Socrates for you?
Are you of divinity?
Then who is Nietzsche for you?

You are with meager governess.
Then what is spar for you?
You are with scholar.
Then what is cacophony for you?

- Chiranjibi Niroula

(featured in the poetry forum 02.21.10)