The Revolving Beacon

The red beacon on the VIP car

Has been bid goodbye

With a volume of fanfare;

Bereft of bullying flash

That shoved commoners aside

Doesn’t the fleet look bare?

“Every Indian is a VIP!”

So declares the Honorable

Praiseworthy noise, I’m proud!

Though I have no car to follow

The zooming, security convoy

With the pilot siren loud!

I’m a victim of bullying

Of arm twisting by musclemen

By the baton-wielding militia;

They coerce me to lift up

Their slogans and tow their line

VIP I am of mutilated criteria!

Xavier Bage

Fri, April 21, 2017

Never Can I Pay Your Fees

 

When I think of divinity I think of her,

Could I have existed if not for her?

Could I be forming these thoughts?

I’d have been non- being without her!

When I think of simplicity as a person,

And conceive of sacrifice as a human;

If service could be walking on its feet

Her humble self it could have taken!

She is the first love gift to me divine,

The tender caress of childhood mine;

Inspiring  me silently to appreciate

The little things that near me shine!

The flowers in the forest and the trees,

Fish in the river, of the air birds and bees;

The syllabi to know and love in her school

My mother,  never can I  pay your fees!

Xavier Bage

Wed, April 19, 2017

Until the Holy is not Saved

I hold in my clutches sweet

The power I so long craved!

A wish burned in my bones

To twist others to my tones

The road's now been paved.

Under my belt is the might

The law may take to flight

Throttle the throat that braved!

If you don’t wear my color coat

I’ll shove you out of my boat

I don’t care if the world raved!

If with animal a man is found

Give the rogue a lynching sound

Until the holy is not saved!

Xavier Bage

Thurs, 13 April, 2017

Silent Hymn of the Breathless Cave

What can the faucet offer

From the waterless tank?

No words flow from the mind

As the reservoir is blank!

You want a poem from me

Which has refused to form;

It’s a starless midnight dark

Thoughts languish in dorm!

Blankness is my meditation

Today in the lonesome cave;

A hymn of breathless silence

Receive from a pauper slave.

No metre, no melody adorn

My faulty and fractious voice;

Critics might lynch me alive

But I have no sweet choice!

Xavier Bage

Tues, April 11, 2017