Facebook Poems
Log
in
I have entered into the world
of
innumerable faces .
I
am sending friendship request
to
unknown rivers,
to
little unseen buds,
to
unknown soft cool wave of wind,
to
the female swan beneath lotus leaves,
to
the moon light caught in clouds,
to
my beloved cuckoo,
to
nameless flower girl,
to dream girl face of my fantasy,
to
yaksh kanya of ‘Meghdoot’.
Profile
I
wrote a name but its relation is unknown
like
a creation of “Indraprastha”-
There
may be water, where you think land.
There
may be mirage, where you see water.
There
may be only picture, where you see flower.
New
face in every photo,
New illusion in every face,
There
is island, where you dream land,
The world of Facebook is the illusion of some “MAYADANVA”*
*
Mayadanva was the architect of Indrapartha in Mahabharata.
Chatting
This is the world of glass screen.
Chatting
with friends and photos.
Chatting
with friend’s friends.
Without
race - religion- sex and platonic love.
I
am searching contact of the God.
Some
day for some time, He may be online.
So,
I chat with knowledge, science, religion
and pomp of religion.
I
am looking
faces
of charming flowers.
I am reading floral language but no fruits.
Plastic
like love
is
covered in artificial words.
Wall
Here
is the meeting,
but
there is no excitement.
There
are lots of promises
but
there is no trust.
There
are dialogues
but
no simplicity of heart.
Where
is tender breeze of spring?
Where
is chirping of innocent birds?
Where
is natural fragrance of flowers?
I
have key of password
to
enter into this world
but
I have forgotten my own identity.
Response
I
have received
some
photographs of butterflies.
What
response should I give?
Should
I show like? Or dislike?
Having
read statement of flowers,
do
I give my opinion?
Having
looked a river without name,
should I accept her friendship?
Or
Should I say ‘Not now’?
After
logging out,
I
come out of spider’s web
(Now
in the Lord Vishnu’s navel named computer,
the
whole world is
in
the deep of the ocean-
one and only ocean.)
Album on Facebook
These are
sparrows
picking and
eating grains in the compound of my home
(They died
because of telecom tower radiation).
These are cows
ruminating in the meadow of my village.
(They are sent
now to slaughter house &
the meadow is
given to some industry by government.)
This is my best
friend Rajiv.
(He is dead in explosion
of bomb
done by
terrorist in train).
That is my
teacher
(Oh poor devil !
Always gave
lectures on moral values
but died in
poverty)
(every one may
not be so intelligent
to earn black
money).
She is my friend
Asha.
(I have video
clipping of her secret love
to blackmail
her).
It is the photo of minister
distributing prize to me.
(Now he is in prison for big fraud).
I know that
these are the photos of very common
people.
They do not decorate album of great
person like me.
But genius people remain always generous!
