Posted by: Shiva Nagri | 19 December, 2013

RETURN

Punched in craters
Shallow waters

Mellow dramas

Mysteries
Miseries
Debris

Turbulent skies
Insane interpretations

Fed up of images I am
Buckle up that secret podcast

Shadows spore hallucinations
Earplugs snore white noise.

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Posted by: Shiva Nagri | 12 March, 2013

Parents ka Paranoia

Keh rahe the baithe baithe
haath mein  sahi se chillum ainthe
laga lo dum ba dum
Zara zor se lo andar mian!
mujhe kya pata tha
ek din
jhelna padega mujhe
PARENTS KA PARANOIA
tabh ka tabh
aur tabh se abh
aur us say pehle se bhi
chai kay cup ko chillum bana rakha hai
aur chuski ko kush
kush se yaad aaya…
khayr chodo…
mann kunto NOGRI BOWBOW

Keh rahe the baithe baithe
haath mein  sahi se chillum ainthe
laga lo dum ba dum
zara zor se lo andar mian
mujhe kya pata tha
ek din
jhelna padega mujhe
PARENTS KA PARANOIA
tabh ka tabh
aur tabh se abh
aur us say pehle se bhi
chai kay cup ko chillum bana rakha hai
aur chuski ko kush
kush se yaad aaya…
khayr chodo…
mann kunto NOGRI BOWBOW

Posted by: Shiva Nagri | 12 March, 2013

Chaand teri maa ki choot

Tere nana ki laundi
Ne laundi di
Thik kia par launda bhi
Haramkhor woh londa tha tu.
Yuck thoo
Dabbe itnae 
Jaisey face flu
Hansiyo nahi 
Chaand teri maa ki choot
Chand jooriyan kyun nahi hui tujhe
Jo bhojal nahi 
Us say allergy kyun bhai
Use bhi chalne de khud pe
Haan chal yeh bhi thik hai
Ki moton ko tunay akhir
Much deserved izzat de di
Woh bhi teri thandi raet
Pe chalte hain pal pal
Harshoullas kotuhal
Par fir bhi saale
Gullu bhai to jaisey tera dalla hua
Sancrosaint ho gaya tera
Kahin door jab din dal gaya
Seedhe abh to challa hua.
Jitna tu aasman pe nahi
Utna tereko sar bhi chada diya
Isi liye beta ji
Chand teri maa ki choot.

P.S. Maa is root, root is core, ma ko gali is root ko gali, root ko gali ro choot ko gaali, choot ko gali to umbilical cord ko gali, bas that’s it.

Posted by: Shiva Nagri | 11 March, 2013

Cuntitled

 

 

Off, the door knobs
and its mahogany frames.
Windows,
opened and closed forever.
blinkin’ and blottin’
like an Orangutan’s testicle.
T as  it is supposed to B.
is sipping me away.
No Cosmos. No Nothing.
I have turned into
a Crème Cuncaal,
floating bone powder,
boiling tender flesh,
spliced up and spruced down,
lithium loads into me,
a sun full of steroids,
and voids,
of depths of pain and restrain.
It used to be
acute sometimes,
sometimes obtuse,
and now,
it is obstinately obsolete again.
Right it wants to be,
wrong; it’s in pain.
A while ago,
a white ecstatic filmstrip
passes by,
in a red Rumified light,
it burns,
in its silvery ego,
in fumes of desires and destiny, dries,
raises itself like a paradoxical cloud
into the intergalactic smoke
and smog.

A luna-laid dervish
drives a quadbike
into a sea full of tears
into Pushkar,
with plentiful of beers.

Posted by: Shiva Nagri | 28 February, 2013

The Fan

Why would the fan

be such a traitor?

Why would he not respond!

Such an empty gaze

mine and his.

 

Such neat emptiness

so pure ; so scarce

He used to spin,

when I used to sweat

but now when I shiver

he is stoic

so impassive

and breathless

So arrogant in its demeanor.

So fucking static!

 

Dust and soot greet us both.

Sunken in an empty ceiling;he

Dunken in an empty bed; me

Such an empty gaze

mine and his.

Dead yet alive

alive yet dead.

 

Posted by: Shiva Nagri | 17 January, 2013

The Nectar is so Numb

Nogri Baba

The pipe pours on
And jams with the pond
Artificial, it may seem
It’s still a song.

Distractions might scream!
Now you may boom the bong!
Attach and detach
Like a pair of handcuffs
Scream and snatch
Unlike your sweet puffs.

The squirming mud
And the slithering grass
A pillaging peace
A fuming bud
And images flood
Like air breathing through
A dog’s nostril
I wonder how long
How long
Can a label last!
Of sane and mad
Of good and bad
Of give and had
Of failure and success

A senile approach to life
And some forest weeds
Some restless birds
Some restless needs
Some hopeless thoughts
Some hopeless dreams
Some nights of joy
Some horrors unseen
A lazy restlesness
A hazy restlessness
Where should i go
In this crazy restlessness.
Do i need rest at all
Motion may be a myth
I may be a fable
Or just an erotic story
Sensually engrossed
Rubbed and tossed
Moaning of endless desires
And endless destinies
That i am still longing to see
To beleive in
Everything is in the mind
Would be a fallacy
Its either nothingness
Or just Me
!

Posted by: Shiva Nagri | 11 January, 2013

Dying in Slow Motion : 3 years at Amity

A sweeping avalanche of asphalt
of tar and coal dipped in chillums
full of crude oil
passing through the tapering tunnel
coming in and going out
coming out and going in
the same time, the same space
existing in a state of fourth dimension
Never ceasing to cease
I wake up
It’s AMITY

There are peacocks
springing forth their necks
like javelins, juggling and jostling
in directions beyond directions
and durations beyond durations.
And then there are pigs,
bogged down in their conspicuous consortiums
they just don’t care.
I sleep down
It’s AMITY.

There’s a banyan tree
throwing a delightful grin
at the brink of the dusk
blushing against the
inebriated transcendence of
the dipping sun
The floating rays pout in the mid air
The building glass, chuckles and crackles and “cheers”.
I am in an altered state of consciousness.
It is AMITY.

Posted by: Shiva Nagri | 16 June, 2010

The Cup

Enigma enclosed
Porcelain posture
The syrup brews
Midst me.
Delicacies dipped
In delusions
Spiral inside my walls.
Hospitality conjoins hypocrisy
They tremble on my rim
As I chafe their vocal eye.

Posted by: Shiva Nagri | 5 March, 2010

Scab

Saffron and green

Used to dive in white

And Then… Red took over

OM and CRESCENT

Glittered under the same starlight

And then… Torches took over

The affection and brotherhood

Crumbled under the debris of Babri

And then… Politics took over

Posted by: Shiva Nagri | 19 February, 2010

BLADES OF AIDS


Blades of Aids

Chop off

The unchoppable soul

Remembering the pest past

Harish unwraps the blade.

The sweaty smile

Sprinkled over

His daughter’s face

The sweaty scare

Scattered beneath

The devil’s face

Behind the half moon glasses

The stigma of syndrome

Threw Harish’s child

In mosquito’s Macbeth

In the dreadful

Dusk of death.

Her cold corpse

Casted on

The devil’s callous eyes.

His ignorance

Her innocence

Enrolled in shrouds

Months later

Through the zig zag

Blade void

He saw the doctor

Ready for a shave

Gray twigs

Glittering on his face

Harish’s eyes fueled up.

The blade in his fingers

Swimmed across the crimson lanes

Tearing open arteries and veins

The dripping drops

Tarnished the tiles

Tarnished the thread

Of his dreary smiles

The loaded razor

Trolled the silvery shreds

Scraping between some

Skinny spreads

As the blood emptied

He fainted

Tumbled down

With the blood splash

Attaining death

And leaving the journey

To the left.

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