God, Devil and we

God, Devil and we

Its very much compromising situation

I can’t deny

Indeed, I confess, I ‘m stuck deep

I won’t defy.

The blank Papers

The pen fills

In the mirror

An image shrills.

Who they are

The evicted families

Where they go

What were the casualties.

Heading forward unknown destiny

Leaving behind forefathers land

My silent gaze follow the track

Trading motion amid quick sand.

Where is abode where they settle

All places belong to might and money

Sorrow reigns the pace keeps slow

The losers sink as hell breaks free

Electoral process has been started

With folded hands the politicians

In lanes, alleys and over the fencing

Graffiti covered walls look dalmatians

The extended arms of religion and politics

And cunning night riders in ambush

The back water is stirred and troubled.

Under the hijab live bombs ’re anew push.

The larger democracy the larger fear

The larger country at large diversity

Binding a country with a string and rule

Is it so easy a constant vigil and security?

An ongoing fight between god and devil

He is ascending top wielding a sword

Like my brother like a threat my neighbour

Is Retaliation a defence means to afford?

Concerning my land

Concerning my land

Anything can happen in this city

Of morale less officers in government buildings

And dead end streets where

Dense dark looms heavily

As no bulbs on the street poles are secured

Under the duress of street ruffians.

Terrorists are marching eastward

From Afganistan, crossing Pakistan

To India where leaders are engaged

In slur making and slandering

To satisfy their pride and greed.

This summer I intended to sit down on the lawn

With a cup of coffee and write a poem

But I am gripped with fear and frustration

A graveyard from my lawn appears very close

My eyes can travel, abandoned and at large

A few worn out wooden cross

Resemble of skeleton and scare crow.

Last night Rumi stole to meet me

At dead of night, her husband wasn’t at home

She was unchecked by the night guards

A long fifteen minutes journey

I was thinking differently if terrorists become Rumi.

Any thing can happen in this city

Under the barb, in the garb of relation

Scaling mountains, breaking walls

Crawling drains and unchecked through

They are out of control, a communal force

All over the world, a neighbouring country

Born out of this land sixty years back

Throwing slanders and hatred

from other side of midnight.

What is a country’s future?

When barbaric reptiles are eating up

Illiterate corpses at the behest of its ruler

A haunting truth confronts a denial mood

I am afraid of dark and treachery

The sun is keeping the battleground far behind

As if destiny took over the seat unchecked.

14 april 2009

Creative thoughts & philosophical ideas

My muse and creative thought reflected in these books, I expected these books will turn the society upside down. And after decades ,  stil,l now I think these books are best works of poetry in my life.

My first book of poems

My first book of poems reflect the dark sides of human nature and society

My books are of poetry and paintings

Still life

Still life

The face in frame .

The dead conch on the table

The loose letters under paper weights

A few free verse and fable.

The stalks of flowers

Sunk in glass of water

Still something (is) missing

The mind is wanderer.

A flowering bud and gardener

A flowering bud and gardener

–Albert Ashok

You are under ten look a deadly flower

Angelic face, smeared with wet pollen dust

Razor sharp edge brazen steel power

Dark, deep slit opens forceful thrust

Like many stars ablaze beaming in the sky

You are not the one I ever longed for

You left your impression on a triangle sty

The hell burns and collapses a cracked mirror

The wild beast walks on cloud and thunder

The hissing reptiles racing as if lightning

Tearing the umbilical cord and age old practice

Here I wait wistful eyes your second coming.

You are sin my undeterred desire breathe

War monger sword tasting new blood

This altar, I worship, I prostrate unconditional

You are my secret god forbids drought and flood.

3^rd april 2009

Copyrighted  and  Published works

I want to hate you

I want to hate you –Albert Ashok

Give me my rights to hate you

When devil came crawling avoiding my gaze

Fixed on my love to human kind

They said they were attacked in a maze.

I did not suspect the currency notes

All seemed original bearing governor’s stamp

But a few notes escaped feigning same

The glaring light of thousand watt lamp

Most people are basically good

As average humane can be

But a few are preaching satanic verses

Advocate war and bloodshed key

You know the effect of computer virus

How the harddisk get under siege

Books were written on devils’ part

Were not checked of massacre and increase

Democracy they love mocking our love for

Only they demand our freedom they will sieve

They mixed up democracy with hypocrisy

Hypocrisy harasses when democracy grieve

I want to burn a book, burn all its copies

A book that is written by barbarian hand

A book on human killings and conflicts

A book that separates our mother land.

Give me right to hate you and condemn

You devils’ advocate loosen the hell

Hard earned this peace and harmony (of civilization)

You have hijacked threatening under your spell.

31 march 2009

copyrighted  and  published

Citizen of West Bengal

Citizen of West Bengal –Albert Ashok

This is flowing ‘ganga’( Ganges river)

And this is the road along it’s bank

The flowing Ganga and the road side by side

As if enchained spouse retorts in clank.

The angst pervades a canopy over every soul

The expectation was not met it’s long over due

30 years on, waiting and writhing, left uncared-for

The wounds get deeper, threatens life’s purview

Under scorching sun a man walks past

Is he beggar or poverty stricken, sleepy or helpless

He mystifies and binds somehow mylife with him

Here was a flowering garden, now no more, why? Guess.

I follow the man in the crowd, he is hesitant

He swerves, grabs my arm and forces to hear

A chronology of his three decades in West Bengal

Impeccable lies, false promises clamour Marxists’cheer

The young men and women frustrate, suicide hits family

The peasants sell off lands, lands are cracked and dry

The roaring giants stop sending siren in jute mills, and factories

The blood bath, political disagreement, chaos and cry

Alike street dogs Dadas ( hooligans, extortionists) unleash terror

The bastard children from affluent family get randy at midnight bar

Duty bound officer, dying patient in ambulance stuck in procession

Roads are jammed , drains choked by plastic, flags sickle hammer star

He was a poet, a teacher when Jyoti started expectation soared high

The man lost all he had now heading somewhere else

His story not far fetched, his cry you cannot deny, the road, the river

Where they will cease I want to crack down and it helps

11 april 09

copyrighted  and  published works

Hello Poet!We leave some footprints on the sand

Walking side by side

Lets hold hand in hand

lets step forward

leaving behind

all our identity

lets walk as

human being

showing mercy

to the beast

Lets try once again

from our heart

we can walk

we can talk

side by side

forever.

—-Albert Ashok

copyrighted  and  published