I THOUGHT OF DEAD AS A NEW POEM

I didn’t know that it takes time
Even for the dead to adjust and act upon accordingly
And look at me, this little lousy son of a man
Trying to walk like a phantom
Undying and haughty, head on, like an un-castrated bull!

Dead takes time to build its empire
It creates heroes out of nothing
I can be a hero to these lesser mortals anytime I want to be
But the dead, it thinks, I am not worth a dead;
Dead takes time to heal the deadness
It invokes and fascinates the living, thus
Harnessing every agonizing aspects of life, and
Me, a tasteless little moron, appreciate it for nothing;
But, the dead, it thinks and act, and
Wait for the right moment to build and expand its empire
From a wobbling distant cousin to life
Today, it carries a heaven of festivals
For each of us, with our choicest feasts!

And just now, I am recollecting myself a life
Bit by bit, from the first wail of a kid to todays hoarse complaints
And thinking about dead, if it really cares for what we do.
May be it’s a dream, asking for myself in altogether a different robe.

Sorry, I am still alive.

***(July 18, 2009)****