Adulterated

Jack and jill,
went up the hill,
to fetch a pail of weed,
jack fell down,
and broke his crown,
jill with no weed,
wasn’t a friend indeed,

so, jill in need,
of some weed,
went to his friend jhony,
whose father was ronny,
so father ronny asked son jhony,
hey jhony,jhony,jhony,
yes papa,
smoking again?
no papa
open your mouth,
jhonny looked at jill.
and they both ran saying
hahaha hahahah hahaha hahaha

They had friend named humpty dumpty,
who sat on a wall,
they asked him to pass the ball,
but he had a great fall,
three scored men, scored a bit more,
but couldn’t put humpty as he was before,


so they went to a baba,
and asked him,
baba black sheep,
baba black sheep,
are you carrying any?
yes son yes son
three bags not many,
one for my master,
one for my dame,
one for the little boy,
who fell from mountain..
one from the hill is our friend jack,
he has sent us to pick the pack,
so baba gave them four,
and they scored more,
they laughed and sang like a clown
London Bridge is falling down,
falling down, falling down..
London bridge is falling down..

THE BOAT

A boat sails quietly, moving into glory,
glory makes us beautiful,
beautiful is the violin,
violin makes me cry,
crying is a child, one who is hungry,
hungry is the river in which there is a boat,
a boat sails quietly, moving into glory..

a bell sounds a prayer,
a prayer is pure,
pure are the friends,
friends are in the pictures,
pictures are from dreams,
dreams are captivating,
captivating is the sound,
the sound comes from the boat,
the boat sails quietly, moving into glory..

papa gifts a car,
car honks a scooter,
a scooter is paddled,
paddles get broken,
broken is an old chair,
chair comes from wood,
wood makes a boat,
a boat sails quietly, moving into glory..

a baby drinks milk,
milk from her mother,
mother is the daddy of all,
all are innocent,
innocent is the smile,
smile is from memory,
memory makes us travel,
travelers are on a boat,
a boat sails quietly, moving into glory..

ace is not always the ace,
ace is sometimes a joker,
a joker plays a guitar,
guitar sings a song,
song sings the notes,
notes are the guide,
guide is a sailor,
sailor was sindabad,
sindabad the sailor,
sailor sails the boat,
boat makes us travel,
travel through the woods,
wood gives a boat,
boat makes a sound,
sound is captivating,
captivating is the picture,
picture is of a boat,
boat is in the river,
river shoulders the weight,
the weight of a boat,
a boat sails quietly, moving in to glory...

The Earthen Pot

My earthen pot is empty, please don’t kick it,
Don’t be angry, let it make the noises and all,
He is hungry; also don’t try to feed it with your stuff,
I will myself bring water to my thing,
Please don’t put your drink in it,
My earthen pot is empty, please don’t kick it.

I don’t have a place to keep it,
It will roll down like this on the road somewhere,
For it is the only way to grow,
It will learn, let it go,
I know it’s a little ugly, a little deshaped,
But that doesn’t mean you have to hate it,
My earthen pot is empty, please don’t kick it.

It was so innocent before, don’t know what has struck him,
Now doesn’t take in any drink pure,
Well who is the culprit?
Me who couldn’t take proper care
Or you who always fed my pot with bad air,
Go away you, and smoke else somewhere,
Addiction is getting to it,
My earthen pot is empty…well let it be.

Oh no, oh no, see what you just did,
Once only I thought of not mentioning it, and you kicked it,
Can’t believe you have broken it into pieces,
Ok deshaped, but it was my earthen pot,
Please pick the pieces carefully, it might hurt him,
Its no longer empty, it’s no longer thirsty,
It’s no longer hungry, it’s no longer, it’s no longer…
I can’t believe he is gone now, I am left all alone,
My pot, my earthen pot is gone,
Don’t stop me, let me cry, let me scream,
I am sorry my pot,I couldn’t feed you,
I am sorry my son,I had to kick you.

I AM A STONE PELTER

Call me whatever, whatever makes you feel cooler or smarter,
I am a stone pelter in Kashmir, an heir of the martyr………..


Welcome to my world, you call it your paradise we call it Kashmir instead,
Welcome to my world, what you see is pink, I see is all red,
What you see is a drop of dew, I see that of a tear,
What you see is silence of peace, I see is fear,
So if stone pelting is ‘attack’ in your sense,
Actually is an art of defense.

Call me whatever, whatever makes you feel cooler or smarter,
I am a stone pelter in Kashmir, an heir of the martyr...

Come visit my land, enjoy its snow, enjoy its mist,
Don’t fear from me, I am from Kashmir but not a terrorist,
I see my pictures being published, my act being taped,
But I also see my sons being killed, my sisters being raped,
Where do I go, whom do I doubt,
For peace in valley, oh man, how loud do I have to shout.

Call me whatever, whatever makes you feel cooler or smarter,
I am a stone pelter in Kashmir, an heir of the martyr...........

Whose building have I bombed, whose fields have I flooded.
But my buildings are bombed and my lands are blooded,
What do u think I throw stones at, with whom do I share this occupation,
No it is not the police nor it is the army, its INDIA the so called nation,
And what more, my act is not one sided, we perform the imbalanced duets,
I throw stones at them and they hit me with bullets...
Today I had no work, so thought of writing this to you,
No it is not just a message, it is a stone fired at you...

Call me whatever, whatever..........