From the thing
That keeps me afloat
Then return
Like I never left
The careful self-sabotage
All too evident.
.Anant
A song
this small town
Has the love
All the love I need
You see
The folks here
They are not rich
But they have good hearts
They'll know if you're hurting
And they'll give you a comforting hug
And if nothing else
This old town is like a friend
Like a buddy you can always come back to
This old town
Oh
This old
Lovely
Little town
There’s a virtual fraction of us
out there. Living an entirely
different life.
In imaginary spaces,
Melting in the sulci and the
gyri of some cold-hot server,
a mere alpha-numeric tag.
We get lost in it more than
we can ever imagine to impact this desolate desert. We can’t change it,
it alters us.
Our machine-selves are akin to
comets wandering in the virtual
space, with no sense of direction
and
Nowhere to reach.
..Anant
Pretending
Coping
An individual’s decline is
A noise-less topple
An inconsequential change for the
World.
What stole your peace
Where is your nirvana?
There’s always enough time on hand
To ponder.
..Anant Dhavale
Wakings have not changed, sleepings either.
Everything that runs unaffected and
moves and has moved ahead. The quiet
jazz of sleepy mornings hums and drools
then falls to nothing. Pity. The cold gurgle
flow of air whirrs momentarily. Slippage of time
has a distinct sound to it, not a thud boom bang though. Unawares,
it runs in the backdrop. Beating hearts and buzzing neurons. You
hear it then you do not. The distant automobile grinding
and grunting through the streets makes nothing much in the way of an
argument. Vague denouements become vaguer.
-
Anant
There’s a certain joy In domesticity
Having supper with loved
Ones. Turning into the insulated
Safety of a homely bed, the warmth
Of covers, mum and dad
And then I think of those who
Can not have these simpler
Joys of life. Children of war,
I wonder who will tuck them in
Tonight.
Anant Dhavale
