Santosh Kalwar

Whoever challenges freaks should notice
that in the method he does not mature into a beast.
If you stare too deep into a depression,
she also stares into you.
Bedtime, the foundation of a smashed house
atomic bomb orphans blubbering in the shade
not a sole light between them
the fragrance of lifeblood
the redolence of separation
the sickly-sweet fume of declining mankind
the moans the sorrows.
Out of all that, abruptly, miraculously, screams:
“The baby is moving inside the belly.”
“Is the Baby coming out?”
In the diabolical bunker, startlingly,
a juvenile mommy had undergone stress.
In the darkness, lacking a matchstick,
clambering to her side,
overlooking their own.

Sitting on this Nepalese domestic bus,
I am not thinking about
who sat on this seat before me
an hour, a day, perhaps even a few weeks ago.
I am also not thinking about the inebriated man.
A bloodsucking bug, saliva, yellowish fluid.
Except, there is a state of fear.
And it is coming from nowhere
but this 2X2, comfortable, luxurious
passenger seat.

The Buddha doesn’t just
Smile but
Laughs

He is not hot
But cool

He is not X
But Z

He is not thin
But fat

Fat in:
Not physical but emotional
Non-academic
Not so religious
Sense/enlightening perception

Does not belong to A
But to B

Switch your mind
Either you hear this
Or you will never hear just that

Whoever wants HATRED instead of LOVE,
WAR instead of TOLERANCE,
RELIGION instead of TRUTHFUL SPIRIT
NOISE instead of SILENCE
Lands NOWHERE
In this BUSY world

As it seems,
People are having fish to fry,
As if life does not stop
Neither do time, people, places,
And all other objects around us
Are we busy living Or busy dying?

My brothers, who are solely,
Truly and purely mine

Sad, poor, hungry people
Near and far

Farming life and hungry from the start
Rainy nights and stressful times
Moving thinly, hands and legs apart
Over distant galaxy and stars

Lift your spirit and let us shout:
We are together
In this crowd!
We will be together
In this round!

This shall also pass
Give me hi5 back

(This poem is inspired from James Joyce book, “a portrait of the artist as a young man”)

The God is my name,
Nepal is my nation.
Chitwan is my dwelling place
And heaven my expectation.

They crucified him for valid claim,
and, before my final departure, here is my wish,

Dingdong! The bell!

Farewell, my dearest ones,
Wherever, you entail,

I know you will burn me,
but bury me,
in some graveyard of our garden,
beside my great-great-grandfather.

My coffin shall be blue,
Five angels at my back,
Two to sing and pray
and, two to carry my soul far away.

Tell me one word that depicts
true love,
And I will tell you
where is the LORD
Tell me one man, who is not
suffering,
And I will tell you
who is completely FREE
Tell me one food that fulfills
a hungry soul
And I will tell you
what it is to TASTE
Tell me one place where there lies
no poverty
And I will tell you where is
HEAVEN/HELL
If you can’t tell anything,
then I will tell you;
Love is the only answer,
my angry friend!

The desire in my heart is selfish.
these beg:
food, clothes, accessories, jewelry, sex, whore
I want, you see.

I want everything around me.
when I have seen something
I want, why don’t you see?

I just want to pluck the flower
in anyone’s garden.

My wants create
a desire
and those desires haunt me
to perform an action

these actions can result
in great consequences
an unexpected
outcome of my wants and desires
you see.

but there is a holy gap in these wants.

Selfish, doubts, smiles and
Uncanny ability to laugh at crowds
An artist dies to create an art
in between clouds.

I don’t understand and
in not understanding
I may even understand.

They never know
Simplicity
Is no longer
The beauty
As beauty
Lies in struggling
and life
is madness
as if there is dancing
clouds of smoke
in between your
fingers
and life
smiles at me.
when I see
emptiness
despair,
pointing
large fingers
at the things
which
I create.