Silence is tea bag
laughter so derisory
importunate drink
haiku by Amit Ray
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A royal Gorkha
Loyal death no pal recluse
White women laughing
haiku by Amit Ray
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An Arab Belly Dancer
A rubber band round
dipped in mobile oil gyrates
serpentine passion
poem by Amit Ray
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she's Called Latonya In Oxford Circus
Cut-glass cheeks, nazel brown eyes
Ample pouts, shivering shouts
Frivolous fish-nets bidding goodbyes
Some blonde cop hugs
As if all of us are but thugs
Some munches nibbling chicken fries
Awaiting coffee mugs
Some planets......never love
Some players.......never match
Some spectators at watch
That some credit never crunches
With the debit in clutch
Some trying to wash the linen
As if have never seen a raven
Here.....nobody knows her abacus
Come Spartacus or Selukas
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poem by Amit Ray
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~A Pronoun~
Happiness is the name of a surrogate mother
Feelings are me in a pronoun
Awards and prejudices change from one wall to another
Hand to hand it is always the same
Rememberance gives it a name but
sweet and sweeter it gets over years like cotton candys
Still at large a pronoun has to blame
Craving, replaying, longing and dreaming
And then the obvious nature in process
they graduate in love, master girls, doctor in simple romantics
Home boys come brave as airmen and sailors
Until bombs droppes from air raids and torpedos speeded underwater
add fuel to the fire dressing the beautiful noun into dropp dead gorgeous pronoun
When they fall perhaps they realise it was not at all necessary
To fly high for nothing near Nizhny Novgorod
Only to be ephemeral or not even a pro of pronoun
poem by Amit Ray
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alone-a Tale Of Two Cities
Walking alone.........
Alone this path of a sinner
I ask myself as you sway me in your air.....
Had only they be taking me to you
from this sands of time sweeping my stakes
Treading alone.........
Alone the dark allies of a dreamer
I think of this darkness
As how fortunate he is to have his moon in arms held tight
Remains me where destiny became the distance
between us in your scale of time
Delving alone..........
Alone the clouds of a crooner
I have my dreams hiding themselves in your daylight
And you smile the fugitive dazzling from it
Awaits me as if it will rain on me
free from this dilations of your time
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poem by Amit Ray
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french Fries -context-2nd World War-1940-fall Of France
An owl hoots, hoots, hoots, hoots
A dog barks, barks, barks, barks
Then some boots, boots, boots, boots
Uproots, uproots, uproots, uproots
The night lurks, lurks, lurks, lurks
Red wines bespatter,
French fries berserk, berserk, berserk, berserk
As the tall neighbours jerk, jerk, jerk, jerk
There rents the air some surrealists
The face of renaissance recaptured nationalists
No ikebana for my darling in Paris
As scenaries take on cemetaries
And greenaries take on apothecaries
Some invitations dugging heccatomb
Our menu-guns, missiles, mortar and a bomb.
Some toddler girls hanging for apricots
Uproar the gargantuan mascots
Come bigots,
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poem by Amit Ray
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~Euthanize~
A baby died
No media a western hyped it as she was a symbolic star
A small german shepherd puppy taken
Germany will not be human until its last remaining blood exempted from Nuremberg its euthanized
The blood that lives still at the cost of Jewish charity
is the same sample that had no culture and education
Education when in the name of democracy if free for german blood
They have not and they will never be ahead of Einstein
or beyond Oppenheimer no matter how much fine or ransom is paid
European activities are on the verge of ushering their own
Hiroshima and Nagasaki by thinking themselves the best
through chicanery, backbiting, looking down upon others using the media
Sooner or later if not they become obsolete like the language latin
Or its people live like self claimed vagaries of Spain and Greece
The East will not care
The sun did rise and will in the east but only
it is not enough to melt its snow
poem by Amit Ray
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~Reconciliation~
A black woman migrates to Europe
War devastated Germany in she finds a tolerant white widower to cope
Years some later a mulatto is born with arrear
Unluckily the newborn not so towards white but usual spirally knotted hair
She grows up and gets because of her white father´s repute a government job
Ego came out spontaneous in black aggression as corn on the cob
Her work by job agency comes mostly foreigners for demonstrations
Majority a jobless black immigrant who has not the lucky touch of Midas parentage in confrontations
She looks of blacks down and she herself is black
When asked to justify says she is more white hidden traits back
She repeats her satisfaction from day to day
Until she went to a white german barber for hair trim and foam some day
Your hair is another says the white old barber woman
I have no experience and i cut not those hairs as talisman
Go to a black barber she added
They understand more your hair as they the same headed
poem by Amit Ray
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~black Red And Yellow~
On the periphery of life
Let blue jeans wear me to marry with death
Fire will be my gown, ashes shall be my girdle,
Smokes so discerned sprawling
Some will say it was a poetic corpse
wrapped in unknown funerary fetes
My blood will be poured in cask of mimicks
A yawn concealing me in semicolon
All the ravens of Chancery lurking the corner in full stops
Boots and kilt emphasizing my lost treasure
At last the casket to embrace me from the provocateur
No persuasive argument will be my candy
for a keepsake solidarity
A marked plot spewed by shrewd men
An aftermath velvet i would squint over the people
Only to see if the lady in red silk i loved has red roses
My dear Soviet plezhvadya
for the wide-brimmed black hat, red bloody eyes
and yellow mouthful of words oozing out of teeth
Hatred of her carped in end and unend
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poem by Amit Ray
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