Nirvana Poem by Anurag Tiwari

And when
Heads in no mood to take further
Fogs and fumes with me alone
Critically taking steps upstairs
Like encircling fauna

When I see …
A flesh like me, dead, lying every stair
Tactically assassinated, my old existence
Past, posthumous, and multifaceted
“I”, “Me”, “Myself”

When I move while
Keeping my own firm feet’s
Over those full or half dead bodies
With whom not just time
I too have expired

When I again transpire with
Assiduously dreaming eyes
Voluptuously dealt eatables
Refrain and restrain me from
Over consumption, for unending
Refining of uninhibited innovations

In continuation,
Till now, breathless surrealist
In mind, mapping shaking universe
Counting twinkles of falling stars in
Traumatic darkness of continuity
With more answers for insanity

With more questions to reply
Tired, yet to make with waves
Toddling, fumbling yet taking steps
To move ahead or to go away

Yelling continuously of brutal killings
In deep encounter with egos
And in clash with wounded innocence
Half remains of crushed desires
Effervescent smiles and strokes of
Half cut legs
Equality and similarity in favor
Of creating deep solace
And residual hatred or omnipresent monotony
For disliking “I” and “Mine” in others.

With closed doors
In upside down heart and mind
A fog of anger, darkness in lanes
At dawn, everyday, like money mongers
Or an agent to destroy
Demanding interest for staying alive
Unknown debt not known but paid by many
Collects installments as breaths
Devastated me with painful strokes of night
Manipulating for deep rooted add-ons
To handle daily turmoil’s and a new tremor

Unfulfilled, incomplete human casting
Disturbed thinkers, philosophical outburst
Everyone has his own share of secret sufferings and,
In pure whiteness, ashamed uterus for unnamed travelers
For half baked solutions
Embryos breathing first and fast in utter darkness
For the sake of creation only – a daily ritual
Acquisitions and spread for power only
In heart, cruel and mocking dance of truth
To brutally torment themes of nirvana.

In the same voyage, in between stones
Nearing a bending dusk, I got, enlightenment
Not like Buddha’s non-violent love for peace.
But electrified homes and leaves
Around those of the darkened trees
Seasoned to spree dense, too dense
With bigger wounds, bleeding woods.
Sudden appearance out of a house
Big headed, innocent, talent
Malnourished kid-face!

Recognized me and smiled silently
In my emptiness on my palm
The truth I found out of long
Scary pursuit in emptiness of soul search
Rays of knowledge flaming from transparent stones
Whose sharp edges ready to cut and shape up?
Me as a sculpt, a face out of half formed skull.
Holding it alone, where to go
A scene of semi finished, semi-achieved, unfulfillment
Will it again get a reject for if?
Meaning less power looms wont accept.

No, like reminiscent of my first love
I keep it hidden, close to my heart
In my old clothes, in a basket
Over my head, like an infant
Like a new born, my Jesus.

I see, standing behind trees
With million eyes, a scene
Completely built structures, envious of possessions
Riches in galore, triumphs in applauds and uproar
And my stone in his palm
A fundamental shift!
Sustaining principled continuity of spacing out
At carved palms, but it’s mine too, at times.
And my new friends,
Celebrity seekers, makers or breakers.
All near that palm
Which holds birth symbol of earth?

I search,
My hidden knowingness in deep
Equally spreading and equally trading
Good but thrown not long before
A letter of love, inserted in a book
Closed unasked in black lanes
People walking past in vain
It’s good to be an agent,
I realized now, for a change
Than flesh, coins, and earth
And its’ better to be a revolutionary reply
In comparison to wanderers in dark
Stealing for manipulations to bark

With more preparedness, if not today
Tomorrow I will come, I assure
From uncounted mob and mere existence
That’s why unseen, unknown, unheard in my flame
This burns slow, but with enough light
On copper-nickel face, sensitized intellect’s shine
Raises fume vapors out of rice cooking utensils
Of dissatisfaction, truth is ambition
To be hanged on wall, to have rain over head of my sculpt
And to appear in words, in eyes of fire
To burn in a passion of her existence
Shivering class, privileged origins struggling
Money centric existentialists’ finding meanings of my torch
A person from mob walking in real
Will crush them to reach heaven
Mathematical relativistic but musical notes
Are they enough to bridge the great divide and “Gap”?

Lived like a curse with changing orders
In sustaining continuity of change
I keep on trimming, meaningless verbatim
To not let be refrained, from cut-plated facial claims
We, when you all will join me, will make
A new century, separate land of no divide
Where ours is the order without fear
For mob and people in power.

Anurag Tiwari

Copyright ©2003 Anurag Tiwari