The Fumes From The Silent Valley
THE FUMES FROM THE SILENT VALLEY
She is a widow with a girl child
joins our office on the grounds of compassion
at the age of 29, her dreams are only half-baked
left to fend for herself, she has to rewrite the episodes
In plain sarees with a speck and clean face
on to her job alone, allowing no room for complaints
as if a robot with no nerves or desires
she packs off daily, as a strict, self-disciplined lady
she never takes to canteen nor borrows nor chit chats
but she is the talk of our entire complex
even her departed husband would have a sigh of relief
that his wife so sails high, setting great standards
how long should she deceive or deny comforts to herself
there is nothing wrong in getting married again
or even to mix up with the people in and around
living behind an iron curtain could not be lasting solution
we wish she should come out of her shell gently
to feel the outside air of freedom and liberty
ethics, morals, customs and stigmas are fast melting entities
let her refract, re-build, recoup and redefine her priorities
- and genuinely, she is the on-line trained, most fittest, balanced spouse for any serious bridegroom, as far as I can vouch -
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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Mona Lisa
MONA LISA
All through the days of the week
Double-busy with my table work
I can return home little earlier, but
Have to sit with my son's homework
And if I am really free at home
My kind wife would order some jobs for me
Dusting the windows, cleaning the ceiling,
Washing the gas-stove and scrapping the sump clean
But for her duties as merely a housewife
She keeps a servant full-time on all meals basis
Just as a ‘mistress' she does only supervise
With her starched Kota sarees' crease never shuffling
Scientists make bombs but politicians use it
Whatever, I earn hard, my spouse so freely expends
You are a machine with no powers to revolt
Nor to halt or question anything you suspect
Vexed by these features, I opted to ‘sanyas'
And am to board a train to night to 'Kailash'
In search of peace, respect and freedom
But, ….my charming sister-in-law has only just come
……I need to cancel at once the whole thing!
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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Boiling Point
BOILING POINT
My beloved husband comes late in night
Knocks the door with a fouling scent
If delayed by a few more seconds
Would slap me on my face at once
He sits till nine in his office seat
In a jungle of papers all around
Not of devotion nor of fun
For men of action - bribe satisfaction
Lot of money he showers on us
A posh house, BMW, a host of vague comforts
With all the gates and windows always closed
We remain as puppets, because he suspects
Just at twenty, my father had a faulty dream
That men of high post were of worthy deals
Married for twelve years could be a real proud thing
Had I not married this scandalous swine
He carries in him all manly vices
We never dare to correct him either
In fear of his wrath and shredding tortures
We feel safe, when the beast is out to prey
In early thirties, I am still young and pretty
He sits and drinks with the girls of dirty
Shelved as ‘unused', I am rusting and thirsty
Ready to cross over the fence one day in frenzy
My face is a pager, the message I beam is bolder
For the boldest of you, I have a best barter
Give me love, kindness, affection and tender care
The frozen treasures in store are for you and YOU ALONE.
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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Two Pizzas
TWO PIZZAS
Our kitchen is chill silent
today, this Friday afternoon -
four-burner prestige stove
stays mute, wiped so clean.
no activities seen
for the mid-day meal
wife and children are
chit- chatting in bed;
stories from Russia,
‘hithihasic kahanies'
tit-bits form weeklys
mock-trial make-ups
slowly, I entered in
to inquire the reason,
for a near hartal.
quickly, my wife replied
she has ordered ‘pizzas online'
two plus one, spicy chicken with some add-on
on fifty percent discount coupon
my childhood days were totally different
two pizzas are equal to two months' mess bill
a class iv servant will run his family whole month - but
my children are fortunate, father is a ‘ project leader'.
……two pizzas speaking of contrasting economies.
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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My First Lady
The First Lady
We studied together
Up to the middle school level
In an infamous board high school
As closely sitting classmates
I had some peculiar
Interest in her
And half of the time
Only staring at her
She always stood first
But, I didn't envy at her
When she was found to be sad or upset
It instantly tuned me to her line of distress
Under the influence of movies that time
I threw some poetic verses at her
She was so generous and tactful indeed
To bury those things ‘as private' with her
On transfer, she moved out to a distant centre
Never to be seen again since decades together
I am still keeping her facsimile inside
As the 'FIRST LADY' to have disturbed my softest senses.
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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Style Is Skin Deep
Whence you are newly married
great attention is paid to dressing habits.
Negligible things, such as make-up, usually
eat up much of your valuable time
after several rehearsals, cat-walk
and perfect touch-ups,
you may dare to show up in street.
the poor husband besides you
could not have earlier researched so deep into
such delicacies that women
so seriously care and boast of,
are really going to ‘jack up'
his normal wife into a small screen queen.
Yet another question does arise here
for pleasing whom a lady so labours hard?
enormous time and money
that goes into this process
announces the dangers well in time,
to which he is additionally wedded
for all the times in the rest of his life.
and it is equally true -
that an husband expects his wife
to be neat and trim
pleasing to himself and others as well
but, the budget cost is so heavenly high
better he should have chosen
to marry just a few months - before his retirement
…..when only, he would have enough to spend.
poem by Santhana Louis
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Indian Standards Time
INDIAN STANDARDS TIME
I am a Gold medalist university teacher
would know things according to the syllabus
if you come up with doubts little outside
I would only say that it is none of my business
I am an old- time thief
yet, I have a code of conduct and ethics
I would not come to steal you blindly
If you have suffered a burglary, current year already
I am a payment-seat doctor
you will agree, that I have to earn faster
your complaints on a disease, that I had left out under choice
cannot afford to miss you, as casualties anyway are much common
I am a foreign-aided, self-made preacher
can heal, and know by heart, all the Gospel Verses
but, I am not meant to enter the Heaven
as I have the key and fee book, to let you all enter in
I am running a top-gear beauty parlour
ugly faces are here mended and tinkered
by fake or crook, we show them up in colour
men lose balance at first sight and are liable to blunder
I am a 35 year-old spinster
gave an advt. in the newspaper
….only married men did respond in good number
saying, ‘privileged and powerful are concubines'
I am a liquor chain owner
your interests are auctioned in my favour
spurious and adultered spirits are no matter
as I have a bounden duty to keep you simply warmer.
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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Because I Got High (Radio Edit)
I was gonna clean my room until I got high
I was gonna get up and find the broom but then I got high
my room is still messed up and I know why
- cause I got high
cause I got high
cause I got high
I was gonna go to class before I got high
I coulda cheated and I coulda passed but I got high
I am taking it next semester and I know why
- cause I got high
cause I got high
cause I got high
I was gonna go to court before I got high
I was gonna pay my child support but then I got high
they took my whole paycheck and I know why
- cause I got high
cause I got high
cause I got high
I wasnt gonna run from the cops but I was high
I was gonna pull right over and stop but I was high
Now I am a paraplegic
- because I got high
because I got high
because I got high
I was gonna make love to you but then I got high
I was gonna eat yo p***y too but then I got high
now I'm j***ing off and I know why
- cause I got high
cause I got high
cause I got high
I messed up my entire life because I got high
I lost my kids and wife because I got high
now I'm sleeping on the sidewalk and I know why
- cause I got high
cause I got high
cause I got high
I'm gonna stop singing this song because I'm high
I'm singing this whole thing wrong because I'm high
and if I dont sell one copy I know why
- cause I'm high
cause I'm high
cause I'm high
song performed by by Afroman from The Good Times
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Break It To Me Gently
Words and music: paul dean, mike reno
Face to face, I can see that look in your eye
But are you looking at me
Cause you know things arent what they seem to be
Does it matter to you
Or have you played that game before
I can feel you across the room
I wanna know just what it takes
Cause you know that Ive made some mistakes
Ive been down that rood before
Dont want to feel like a wolf when im
Banging on your door
So, break it to me gentiy all night long
Break it to me gently or prove me wrong
Take me to the point of no return, oh yeah
Break it to me gently all night long
All night long
So tell me if Im wrong
But wasnt it you that gave up
Without a fight, last night
So tell me if Im reading you right
Thats when I felt that there was something going on
And now I know what I wanna see
When you walk that way
Do you walk that way for me
Gotta know
Or are you just putting on a show
Cause youre everything I want
And a little bit more
Break it to me gently all night long
Break it to me gently or prove me wrong
Take me to the point of no return, oh yeah
Break it to me gently all night long
So break it baby
Here we go
Oh, oh, oh, oh oh
Oh oh oh, oh oh
Oh, oh oh, oh oh
Oh, oh oh, oh oh
Break it to me gently all night long
Break it to me gently or prove me wrong
Take me to the point of no return, oh yeah
Break it to me gentry all night long
Break it to me gently all night long
Break it to me gently or prove me wrong
Take me to the point of no return, oh yeah
Break it to me gently all night long
All night
song performed by by Loverboy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whiite Paper Of A White Tiger
WHITE PAPER OF A WHITE TIGER
At my very door step
Exactly on the same time;
They serve me a square meal
Of chopped up, weighed fresh meat
Tested and vitaminised
Bucket-full of ready feast
…….no ….no…..I am not a VVIP
But, jailed for years
As a rare Bengal beast
One way, I am quite happy
That I need not have to labour
Or strain myself for a small prey
They are treating me as an ‘ex-ruler'
Loss of freedom - I do not even bother
In view of the respects
Care they offer, I feel much better
Than a loner in the forest
Sometimes, I may not be hungry at all
And have to skip a meal
On a long nap in my cellar
Quickly, they will move me
To the veterinary lab
Until they certify that nothing is wrong
Great people and their love and affection
Never allowing me to go fasting or dieting
I meet daily visitors of all sort
Joyous, sad, haves and have-not
Hanging on to the bars with awe and sympathy
As if I am at loss, punished or starved
In fact, through the dividing bars
Watchfully, I come across numerous faces
Dried up and charmless,
With no traces of happiness
And I silently, thank that I was so fortunate
For I can roar, walk majestically
Even under the terms of captivity
The poor people across, are cowed down
With invisible chains and cages
Their roaming and movements at free will
Doesn't make any sense to me
Though, in reality and at this age,
I cannot hunt a tiny rat on my own skill.
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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People-in-love stay hurt ever
Some friends of mine
Consider that
I may be a solution-finder
To some of their problems
I know I am not smart
I know I am not very thoughtful
I know I take hasty risky decisions
But still there are people
Who feel they get some comfort
In sharing some of their problems
A friend of mine
Came to me with a personal matter
To get some semblance of solution
It was indeed very difficult
To decide whichy way to go
He was narrating
He received a call
And a feable female sweet voice
Tells 'I want to marry your son'
My friend was aware
That his son fell in love
With a colleague of his
And the girl belongs to a different faith
His son was explained
How traditional customs will get affected
By this option abd hence
Was told to settle down
With an arranged matched alliance
His son seemed to have fallen in line
With this proposal from the parents
And my friend was in search of suitable alliance
Marriage has not fructified, though
This love-related conflict apparently got softened
When he got this call
It was full six months later
So, it looks affair is cooking still
My friend was mentioning
That this was first time
He happened to talk to this girl
She was telling she broke an engagement
As she was not able to leave her beloved
And she has no other go but to talk
To my friend to explore
The possibility of getting married to his son
My friend told her what all his son was tutored
Against getting married across traditions
Wished her well and the strength to
Change her mind to settle down
With the suitable alliance from her own community
The girl cried, sobbed
And repeatedly was telling that
She will be happy only with her beloved
And was mentioning that my friend's son
Will only be happy when married to her
My friend made it clear
That he cannot and will not
Give a nod to this proposal
And she disconnected
My friend was mentioning
What pained him most was
That cry
Of that girl, totally unknown to him
And the guilt feeling
Of having hurt someone hurt
He was asking how to go about this
I maintained silence for quite long
As if I suggest one way
The communities get hurt
And if I do the other
The lovers get hurt
He waited and left
Saying that since you heard this
I will soon get a solution
I did not, however, tell him
Communities soon get relieved of the hurt
While people-in-love stay hurt ever
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Dollhouse
Well ever since you were a little girl
You set the rules in your little world
But girls grow up and throw their toys away
Youre a big girl now but you still wanna play
(girl were living)
You dress them up the way you want to
(girl were living)
You make them do just what you want them to do
(girl were living)
Once I thought we had a love that was true
But Im just another doll in your dollhouse to you
Were living in a dollhouse
Were living in a dollhouse
Girl were living in a dollhouse
You may feel safe and sound
But your dollhouse, girl, is falling down
Its all been neatly arranged in your mind
Every detail fits your own design
Every room is perfectly in place
But I can see the sadness, baby, on your face
You had a plan and darling like a child
You thought its down to fashion, down to style
But your little dreamhouse is runnin wild
Before your very eyes were shrinking down to size
Were living in a dollhouse
Were living in a dollhouse
Girl were living in a dollhouse
We may feel safe and sound
But our dollhouse, girl, is falling down
Everythings as you dreamed it would be
But theres something wrong that you cant see
Room by room you keep looking for some little flaw
A crack somewhere in your dollhouse wall
Something, girl, that will explain away
The hurt you feel, darling, when we play
Your little dolls they got a grip on you
Until youre just another doll in your dollhouse too
Were living in a dollhouse
Girl, were living in a dollhouse
Oh were living in a dollhouse
We may feel safe and sound
But our dollhouse, girl, is falling down
Oh were living in a dollhouse
Girl, were living in a dollhouse
Yeah were living in a dollhouse
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Possessiveness
A possessive wife is a fortune.
It gives all the comforts.
But you lose freedom.
Your lust is imprisoned.
Comforts give pleasure.
Freedom gives happiness.
Freedom is supreme.
A possessive wife
Is suited to a meak husband
Otherwise it is a hell.
23.06.2002, pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Seema (Border) Babu Model
My military friend has taken discharge
from the uniformed services and
returned back to his home town
pension account with state bank
purchased landed assets for a lump sum
keeping a portion reserved for himself -
to start a own business, on a small scale.
several of his friends pestered him for a clean loan
with solemn promise of punctual repayment
frequent visits by very distant relatives
with unsolicited ideas for instant earnings
some agents circled him with pamphlets, attractive tables,
for rearing Emu, Goats, Milk shed, duck, chicks, & puppies
vultures closeting with the lure of very fatty interest
promises of money getting doubled every six months
my sepoy friend came running to me
to suggest a way out from all this perils
I gathered all his savings and placed them
In joint deposits with his wife & children
besides regular pension, quarterly interest comes in handy
liberal but, budgeted living, regulated spending in army canteen
consent of wife for every pay out - based on his sound background
bank assisted him to set up a stationery business,
now he is a ‘mallick' (owner)
peaceful and satisfied, the ex-BSF havildar, walks upright in full pride
no greedy desires, nor quick money ‘laluch' (temptation)
in enjoyment of faithful toil along the porous Bangla borders
sacrifices made &services rendered, in reward,
the present day status,
the entire village is proud of him,
citing ‘SEEMA BABU MODEL'.
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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Two Sections A & D
I was a dull boy, in studies
during high school days
In 9th standard - D section - where
below average minds were only dumped
since, all my co-students
were also of same mold,
teachers used to be strict and harsh
still, we struggled to get even pass marks
Sections A and B, full of proud students
with an air of superiority, as intellectual breeds
they never mingled with the pollutants 'D'
the co-ed girls of our own class too
preferred only boys from the ‘bright sections'.
In quiz, Chess or inter-school meets
those veterans brought prizes and laurels
to the broad smile of our HM and teachers, while
we remained sidelined, as wastes & useless
after 25 years or so, I met my girl-classmate
in a car parking lot, with her family all around
proudly, she announced that her two sons are M.D.s
from the womb of ‘Section D' - two brilliant Medicine guys!
in turn, I gave my visiting card, Manager of a leading bank;
my daughters both are engineers, one is presently doing Ph.D in US
after a short chit- chat, they left.
Seated in my car, I just rewind,
TRUE - that ‘dull last bench', had not fared, initially, well
but, is now the spring-board for our wards to shine
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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He Comes Knowing
He comes knowing he is challenged.
He has live his entire life...
Challenged.
Disciplined and observant.
Do you think he is oblivious to the obvious?
And living in a preferred time zone.
Comforted by hidden insecurities...
And deluded by the absence of practiced truths?
He comes knowing he is challenged.
He has live his entire life...
Challenged.
Disciplined and observant.
Do you believe,
One who has been made to feel an 'outsider'...
Does not perceive,
Who receives him as he is!
Amongst those who are quick...
To ridicule him with their negative judgements.
He comes knowing he is challenged.
He has live his entire life...
Challenged.
Disciplined and observant.
And...
He is guided by the 'Divine'!
In time,
You will discover that.
He comes knowing he is challenged.
And knowing he does...
What will and must take place,
To clean up disgraceful traces left,
By those who have lived their entire lives unchallenged...
Thoughtless.
And,
Born to feed their greed!
Prepare...
For the 'We Can and 'We Will'
Winds of change to blow,
Dramatically across the land!
And free of addicting pollutants.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Colour Blindness
COLOUR BLINDNESS
She is not able
to remember well
my very face,
as we use to criss-cross daily
on the half a mile foot over-bridge
exactly at the same time -
for over a year
without even a pinch of love
What a shame! ! Disaster to my manliness;
I should now either change
my timings or my route
to have a new target girl
as I have drawn zero
from the previous rounds
sadly, as I was treading the ‘Z' bridge
a stout, simple girl, in all her shyness
blushes before me, to announce her hidden love
cherished by her at the same over-bridge
for that whole miserable year -
unaware of my failed overtures;
How come, I missed her thirsty sights
accepting readily the willing offer
I nodded in silence, in an affirmative style
………….as getting loved by someone
is a rare finish game.
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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Deceiving Looks
People shopping in the mall
Looks deceive, while there's so much more to every-one than meets the eye
Boy slim and tall
Buying some hair dye
But what people can't see are the scars on his arm
He holds a knife in his hand with wrong use
Tearing away inside of him is the parent caused harm
Everyday he goes home to abuse
Looks deceive, while there's so much more to every-one than meets the eye
Young girl buying some Red Bulls
But what no-one can see are the immoral acts that go on at her place
Dad rapes his daughter as on her hair he pulls
What happens is a disgrace
Looks deceive, while there's so much more
Shy looking lady buying some meat
But what no-one can see is how her husband makes her sore
He pushes her into the seat
As he continues to beat her up
In her face, smashing a glass cup
It will later prove to be a fatal act
As her face is no longer intact
People happily shopping in the mall...
Or so you thought
But, for many, help is their call
To hide their emotions is what they've been taught
Looks deceive, while there's so much more
Of that I'm sure
poem by Amy Parkinson
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Valley
Wake hard in the morning.
See the young girl milking.
Stream rushing by on a bed of stone.
Old goats and sandstone cracking --
All containing --
Squeezing that river like it squeeze your bones.
In the long red, red valley people live here too long.
In the long red, red valley they only sing the valley song.
Some bad people living further down the valley,
Not easy for us to do good trade.
We got snowmelt, snowmelt sweet water.
They got that valley road that they made.
In the long red, red valley people dying here too long.
In the long red, red valley they only sing the valley song.
Holding hands on the hillside.
Showing love to your brother --
Your sister and your mother --
But we hate those people down the valley.
Has anybody seen moses?
Get him off that mountain.
Bring back the tablets of stone.
Its a wise, wise prophet who keeps his own council.
Yeah, leave the other mans wife alone.
In the long red, red valley people live here too long.
In the long red, red valley they only sing the valley song.
Wake hard in the morning.
See the young girl milking.
Stream rushing by on a bed of stone.
Old goats and sandstone cracking --
All containing --
Squeezing that river like it squeeze your bones.
In the long red, red valley people living here too long.
In the long red, red valley they only live the valley song.
In the long red, red valley people dying here too long.
In the long red, red valley they only know the valley song.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Erstwhile Lovers
We see the places and people
Once left, with some kind of nostalgia.
It must be applicable to ex-wife.
Why should my spouse get paranoid
When I happen to see and talk
To her as a well-wisher?
If my wife saw her ex-husband
Could I take it easy and casual?
(21.09.2005)
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Married But Not A Parent
MARRIED BUT NOT A PARENT
We have a couple living in the upstairs
sound of music, through the windows always blare
their house is full of modern wares,
yet, they are as sad, as having been lost in a desert so bare
a decade of marriage with pills and pilgrimages
cursing remarks befall on them in barrage
for some unknown defects in their human hardware
harvesting a child is to them, the biggest nightmare
one plus one, how much they would spend
with their bank balances growing in leaps and bounds
the purchasing power they have and wield
is not just enough for them, to fish out a child
not every child is the best asset
nor every parent is proud of his product
they need not be in tears - for not becoming a parent
since the patents they produce are sure to bring them to lament
Louis Santhana
poem by Santhana Louis
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