through-and through…


Sometimes, the life
flows like a river; without
a proper destination, journey
Risen once; Never would stop.
Let alone the love, Friendship
with the pebbles and the sand- Alike.
Smile while the journey lasts; Enjoy-
the breeze and the music-
the stills and the waves-
the ascent and the descent; Once,
Twice and again. never would you lose your heart,
pumps the motivation, Through-
and through; Believe-
you and yourself. Like the mere dew-
that made the river. Flow…
Never would you doubt your heart.
through-and through…

A Veteran’s Fire


Wearing a smile, sincere as ever

Pillow to injured leg, pain has to be clever

No regrets, his eyes says it all

He is a fighter, on duty and ready for call…

 

Couldn’t help but have a word,

To fuel next step, that’s all he want

He explained his fight, with life and the pain

When landmine shattered his dreams and gain

 

War is ugly, bitter, cruel and dire

But never would stop a veteran’s fire

Been six years, his wound is still fresh

Oh! The life, you and your derision!

 

He might be hurt, pushed, dragged down even…

But no one would keep him back for certain.

Not me, you or even the despotic life;

Think of it, even a landmine tried…

 

P.S: Sri Lankan war heroes still fight with their lives day in and day out. We went to “Ranaviru Sewana” in Ragama and shared a day with them… One of many to come… They will never be forgotten… https://ranavirumeetup.org

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Out-of-touch poem…


I’ve been chasing,
It keeps fleeing away
When I’m sleeping,
It come knocks again

Should grab by the verse,
Pull out letter by letter
It is such a curse,
Cuz every word matter

See, it stops flowing just like that
My mind trapped in a nothing box
Gee, can’t remember what is what
out-of-touch poeting sucks

The knife and the trencher AKA “Religion”


Blackened eyes

Filled with hatred.

Feeble heart,

following blindly…

Thou say night, yet there’s light

No effort to see, what and who’s right!!!

Portrayed by a mirror, hide behind the fear

Fake bravery, fake knowledge and fake words.

They are all just,

Mighty thoughts stolen from tiny minds,

Sharpened by loyalty to the unknown and unseen,

killing each other, rape each other, degrade each other…

No I’ll never be the trencher, I’ll always be the knife,

Let truth be the bread…

In the end…


Believe, lie and dream
Strength is just sacred,
You dare walking in that path
Where no life prevails
Dream about the light
And stare into the dark… mere faith
You won’t be harmed
Until you believe the devil
You won’t be helped
Until you believe the god
Forget the help and harm
Take your next step forward… deceive your self
Beginning would be rough
Next it would get tough
I know you have the guts
To challenge your heart
Finally, you would conquer the dark,
With LIGHT…

“Sir, you have two mails”


It was the afternoon; usually he is not supposed to be at home at this time of the day. But today he left the workplace early because he felt like he is not that well and he was ready to use a free time from a long time. He is sitting in his favorite chair reading a newspaper. The doorbell starts ringing and his wife began screaming “This must be those rascals, they don’t go to school to study but to have fun of the school neighbors’ doorbells, yesterday also a boy was there when I open the door, he just mocked me and ran away. Bloody annoying little rascals”.

He got an idea, instantly jumped up from the chair and ran to the bathroom. The doorbell continues. He found that the little bucket which they keep under the tap is filled with water. So he doesn’t have to consume time to fill it. He carried it and ran back to the door. Leans himself beside the door like a Commando just about to breach the door. His mind racing, what a brilliant idea this is to stop their trouble forever. No one can bare this kind of mischievousness of any one. It has gone too far, they take my wife as bait for their fun, almost every day. He imagines of a school boy in blue shorts soaked from hair to toe, and he stands in front of him laughing. The plan is perfect, he just waits for that boy to press the button. One more time.

It all happened too fast. The ring of the doorbell, and it took less than a second for him to react, to throw the water at the boy standing on the doorstep. Mission Accomplished. He looks at the boy. He doesn’t see the blue trouser; instead it is a long khaki trouser. He suddenly looks at the face of the boy. It is not a boy, there is this person dripping water from his hair, face and from the bunch of letters in his hands. He felt that something is wrong somewhere, he looked around but he could not see any school boy.
Then it hit him,
Oh! It’s Saturday!!!