The Loudest Cry on the Turkish Sea Coast

Can any of us of the humankind

Of our sane species rightfully boast

After seeing the child’s face buried

In the sand of the Turkish sea coast?

Death has silenced his angelic heart

And the voice that was his mother’s joy

In the heartless Mediterranean waves

that hurled back the orphaned lifeless boy

Why, why was he so far from home

In the little boat over the treacherous sea?

To which land  in his dream tender

And what from did he want to flee?

The silence of the dead child is

The loudest cry of all humanity

What did I do to deserve a watery death

To lie on the wet sand sans dignity?

No animal kills others of its kind

Be it hunger or thirst to satiate

Only humans have crafted weapons

To kill other humans and mutilate

Are humans worse than animals despised

Are they in truth  a less intelligent breed

They shed blood and life of other humans

Is cruelty something to live they need?

By Xavier Bage 

Sat, Oct 31, 2015

The Devil came in a Saint's Disguise

The devil came in a saint’s disguise

Dined with me and won my trust

I was led by him through rosy dreams

That were sure one day to burst

His words were alluring and honeyed

I was drawn limply I didn’t suspect

And today I am no less than cursed

A simple man I was and still am

Unable to see through dirty deceit

I’ve trusted saintly persons all my life

Never seen poison under layers sweet

And eventually the masks have fallen

And the costume no more hides the truth

My life plants are singed by hell’s heat

Death stares at me with bared teeth

Brimming with hideous hellish guile

Surrounded by enemies I find myself

Who close on me with raving rant and rile

Brandishing their blades blood thirsty

To butcher me into pieces and munch

They jeer and jump on curdled corpse pile

There isn’t a friend near me to rescue

No one is beside me to assist in the fight

To repel the hell’s hordes and create

A space to escape to my left or right

Who can save me from the unholy clutches?

Trust only the Savior who vanquished him

With his holy blood on Calvary’s height

By Xavier Bage

Friday, 30 October, 2015

The Warning of the Voiceless

Don’t think you can hit me

and won’t be hit back;

because I can’t move my limbs

as freely as you can move yours;

because a protesting voice I lack.

There’s someone standing behind me

Who can give you a mighty whack!

I’ve wished to be your friend always;

nay, I’ve always been your brother.

I’ve always loved and supported you

without counting the cost, ever.

But, you’d be an enemy rather;

you cause me pain in all you do,

forgetting we are born of one Father.

You twist my arms, rob me of my joy;

you go on to axe me and mutilate.

With deafening noise you jump in glee,

compelling birds and animals to flee.

The horrible way you celebrate;

you think you are civilized while

you pollute my home, on me you urinate.

Don’t think you will go unpunished;

don’t presume you’ll not get back your blow.

You’ve got to reap what you sow.

My revenge doesn’t make a sound,

but it unmistakably falls hard and slow.

I’m a part of the ruthlessly just Eternal Karma

Hard you might try, you can’t escape my law!

P.S. – Who is the speaker of the poem? O gentle and wise reader, I leave it to you to guess; for you might see a person or a living being around you, who is as defenseless or voiceless as the speaker of the poem.

By Xavier Bage

July 4, 2014

Tethered Cows We Are

Why are they making such a noise, Ma?

I can’t study, can’t read my books;

I can’t concentrate on my lessons.

Have to go without preparation, it looks,

Can’t they stop making such loud noise, Ma?

My last three subjects went badly;

I was tired; I was sleepy in the hall.

My hands fell limp on the paper,

The answers, I could not recall;

I may fail the exams this time sadly.

I’m sorry to hear it, my child darling.

They’re singing the revered  god’s  name.

They can’t be told to stop the *kirtan.

They will be angry with us, it’s same…

Everywhere, child, I can’t do anything!

We live in a society, in a religion

Like it or not, with it we’ve got to flow.

We’ll need them some day, my gold;

To them our regards we’ve got to show.

We can’t get out of life’s compulsion.

We are like tethered cows, not free

To do what we like, to say what we like

We can’t get out of this social fence

We’d like but can’t fly away on a hike

We are rooted like a plant or a tree.

O Mama, why, it’s beyond my mind,

They should cause us such sorrow.

Can’t they tone down the volume,

so that I can prepare for tomorrow?

In God’s name, can’t they be kind?

*singing praise of a deity, usually accompanied with playing the harmonium, the drum and cymbals.

By Xavier Bage

A Blazing Ball of Fire is My Mind

I am a blazing ball of freaking fire,

A rolling rock from a mad mountain;

Move out from the line of my ire.

My anger is a lashing lightning flash,

Of the mighty gods of the high sky;

A living furnace to turn enemies to ash.

So much injustice, such repugnant lies,

Pollute the life blowing air of my garden;

My flowers and birds in suffering cries.

My cool river has turned into lava flood,

Not to sweep off the innocent souls;

But to melt those who suck the poor’s blood.

God forgive the fiery thoughts of my mind,

The red hot coal pieces of my heart beats

That have grown gigantic to crush, to grind.

By Xavier Bage