Deos Et Ipsi Observabant Eum

Deos Et Ipsi Observabant Eum

(The Gods Were Watching It)

While with tragic tears you were stacked,

And the earth, pitch black and dark,

Conquered your strength, dreams destitute.

Made you a whore.

Deos et ipsi observabant eum.

When to the dark gray beasts' fancies,

Struck you a rod in and out,

For that certain quiver in their loins.

You were helpless, and

Deos et ipsi observabant eum.

While by incense traders gluttoned,

In gold and silver the blossom traded,

Mere to be shredded into bits,

Neither of a wreath, nor of some devotion...

Deos et ipsi observabant eum.

And when the lassies, who to feed,

Brought along a sack of gold for a measure of wheat,

Among the fattened bulls and bears,

And when the butterfly broke her wings,

Deos et ipsi observabant eum.

With the gusty wind, the heaven trembled,

Some souls lamenting her saddened fate suicide,

No matter if some ewe cry for help aloud,

When beastly brutes six devour her,

Deos et ipsi observabant eum.

Deos et ipsi observabant eum,

The Gods were watching it they say,

No matter how, where, and what you are,

The Gods will always watch.

The Gods can't do anything else.

                                          G.K

Wail Of Woods And The Waters

Wail Of Woods And The Waters

Don't you hear,
The Wailing echos,
Of the woods and the waters,
From heavens above, hell below,
And the frozen earth,
That 's in between?

Sandwiched by greed and gold,
Sharpening their vicious fangs every passing day.
Can't you hear,
The plight of the dirty moon,
Bloody with innocent sacrifices?

But inside their icy crags,
A demon huge and mighty lies,
The eternal demon:
Among the morning coffee cups,
The marshmallows and the buns,
Hides himself in the shadows,
Yours and Mine.

Damned yet boasting profound,
Of his legions strong and endless,
Fed on evil, every soul consumed.

Can't you hear,
The wailing plight,
Of the woods and the waters,
And of the frozen earth.

                                  G.K

Things Fall Apart

Things Fall Apart

("Turning and Turning the widening gyre,
The falcon cannot hear the falconer")

Things fall apart, the center does not stand,

Though this be my fault, yet not of my hand;

And O mother, damned thou art, the beastly sun tanned,

The greens, I see turning to mounds of sand.

Seldom does the cuckoo sing, on the branches green,

And seldom from the meandering river, flow sweet water clean;

It was not the picture I saw, the seen scene,

Minds of the new age, the mean human machine.

That slimy, smoky, greasy monster of tin,

With ferrous jaws, a shiny metallic skin;

Feasting on your dear's lives with a crafty grin,

Happy, happy, he was, for the loose and his win.

And alas! My fate, I see no blossoms bloom,

Mother, barren thou art, your empty womb;

Sadness lurking, with a misty gloom,

The day of death, it is, the day of doom.

I could have stopped him when he was child,

Should have stopped him, when he was a child;

Though as boy, he was meek and mild,

And how could I know, he'd turn so wild.

I saw not his willy hands nor his heart cold,

Yet all warned me, stop him, they told;

I didn't, thought he was growing just being bold.

And now I lament mother, for all humanity's pain,

To mankind, it will remain forever a stain.

Why not did I stop him, Why not?

                                                  G.K

My Unsaid feelings

My Unsaid feelings

Beloved, oh! How can I ever let you know,

Of the nectarine desires which lie deep in my mind;

Those wreaths of thoughts sweet, for you I ponder by,

And to your heart the fetters unseen, my heart does bind.

Sudden you came unannounced, with the breeze mellow,

Brightening my soul, which till darkness gloomed;

In pure delight, capered I merrily merrily,

As in the season of spring, the many blossoms bloomed.

A thing of beauty*, holy father's masterpiece,

My lovely maiden, so fair and calm yet so gay;

Healthy shades vivid, and of a varying hue,

Of lilies, lilacs, lupins and lotuses, the summer may.

And yes, your eyes eclipses the whole of your sex,

That eyes of doe, ever drunk yet meek and kind;

Unknown of my feelings are your flirting smiles,

Alas! O' fate, what world for me have you designed.

For you, I loved with that love so divine,

But sure I lament that you will never know;

Let it be concealed, forever and for eternity,

Since my love, you will never fathom, and I never show.

And from these dumb silent eyes of mine,

Came rolling down my cheeks, a few briny drops;

Catch a sight of them if you can, are tears,

If not, let it forever and ever remain water drops.

                                                                G.K

The Dialogue

The Dialogue

Come out of your woe,
And amble as all men do.
With pride,
Challenge.

Misfortunes strike once again,
Despair becomes a need,
For survival.
Hopelessness buried deep down my poor heart,
anguish prevailing.
Yes,
Come out of your woe,
These sounds/ words heard far away,
Like a whisper.
Futile words, needless to consider,
My mind tells me,
Dejected as always.
My tears as offerings,
Given to you.

Oft in your fantasy, you dreams chase,
Oft in your shackled slumber,
The rainbow vivid shines bright hued.
Come out of your slumber,
Come make your dreams come true Antigone.
Fly with me high above.
Maybe some immortal Zeus did conspire,
For your woes that ages witness;
Why you? Ever asked why?
Why shed your pearls prized,
For the follies of others and your vice.

                                         
                                              G.K & Vidoushi Ramjheetun

What Was My Fault?

What Was My Fault?

One night, in a dream I woke,

Dwindling near Bethany I was;

There to the edge of the dusty road,

Lone standing, I saw, a tree's carcass.

A fig tree it was that I saw,

Shrieved, laconic, and dried;

Grief in his heart profound,

Denuded and barren, he cried.

A strange call to his place, I went,

To tell a tale yet untold;

"Pray tarry a while", said he,

From there wearily he called.,

It was one fine bright morn

When with many a disciple he came;

The Son of the Holy God he was,

Jesus, the Nazarene, his name.

He was hungry I guess,

For he, a while stopped by me;

Wandering his bloody eyes upon my branches,

To look for figs, on a fruitless tree.

No fruits there were on my branches,

For figs, it was not the season;

But he..... was angry and peeved,

And cursed me for that reason.

"May you never bear fruits again",

With a rage he muttered.

And I, that very sorry instant,

Became dry, sere, and withered.

WHAT WAS MY FAULT IN THAT?

WHAT WRONG DID I DO?

It was not the season for figs,

So bare, my branches too.

That tree with a mourning heart,

Made me think of God once more;

Holy, pure, and judge I thought he was,

But this way I never thought before.

What kind of thing was that,

To do to an innocent fig tree;

That it withered away instantly,

What God this Almighty be?

What kind of god was that?

What was there to inspire in his son?

Cursed a tree to death and decay,

Without any flagrant reason.

                                      G.K

La fée et l'enfant ( The Fairy And The Child)

The Fairy And The Child

(Pour ma chérie, afin qu'il puisse bien dormir)

Glittering crystal wings, gold smile adorned,

With a child's first laugh, A fairy 's born;

Giving hope, holding him by his hands,

Takes to a beautiful magical land.

Little child there he sees, his wee heart desire,

Soothing, like a warm comforting fire;

Away gone all worries and the pain,

That fear not he may, ever in vain.

The fairy carries him to her wonderful unknown realms,

Into that mystical land of hopes and of golden dreams;

To let you feel, what you must deem,

Without trouble, or fear.... forever as it may seem.

Yet a fairy each time ceases to live,

When you say, "In fairies I don't believe"

What else could she do, the fairy so poor,

'came a stranger, knocking at the child's door;

With a cry of agony she had to leave,

For the child, in fairies, did not believe.

All hopes withered away with the little fairy dead,

And the child cried, lowering his slumbered head;

Happy the child might have been, hopes always,

with the fairy no more, like dark nights became his vivid days.

To believe in her, is all that she asks,

To hope and to pray, isn't after all a mighty task;

But what could she do, the fairy so poor....

Became a stranger, Knocking at your door.

                                                    G.K

                                                  17-04-2013

My Meandering Riverie

My Meandering Riverie

Had I that passion of love, muted and genuine,

Maketh me troubled, that willy-nilly mind o' mine;

I lack the courage to approach that by the by,

Thee now, and such in the course of time, stand by.

Yet, down the depth of my faith, my trouble cries,

An eternal longing  for being tendered, there it lies;

And the fleeting time is now, not at ease,

For the years roll, degrees by degrees.

The lingering sweet scent of the spring of Keats',

That compassionate feelings, that wonderous feats,

From the spring to the summer the reverie arrives at,

Lord God, My consolation thou art, be my guide on that.

Let me sail my lonesome ship, alone and anon,

Leaving no footprints, in the sea of remorse, unknown,

With thee my lord, I sail with thy guide.

                                                                                                                                G.K

Ah.......
How I wish, my muses,
I could put my feelings in words,
I can't.


G.K