Electronic Boxing

These two players in the arena

Both know the power of IT

None of them can do without

Whatever they may like, shout

Who isn’t aware of truth so mighty?

The minister first threw a lump

On the opponent, of cow dung

With an aim to publish him dirty

With facebook playing the flirty

Next on him a mud ball was flung!

Did they shop at Cambridge some day?

They’re throwing punch in its name

The bout can stretch to length any

For each of them are electronics savvy

Each aims to win the election game

That one has more money muscles

And less of qualms in conscience

He has shamelessly proved it before

When this time stakes are much more

Wouldn’t they employ crafty science?

Xavier Bage

Wed,  28, 2018

Digha the Seductress

 

Digha, the city beside the Bay,

a seductress standing  sans shame

She welcomes all with open arms

To her pleasures of round bosoms!

O seekers, let caution be companion!

One can bathe in the salty water

Opaque with sultry mud and mire

swaying on playful teasing waves

which have swallowed humans many

to be fish food in the depths!

On the beach, brats of rich dads

Drive sports cars and bikes

To show off and to gorge fun

Only to smear the sand with blood

Their own and that of strollers!

In the hotels of the beach city

Young lives have been strangled

By their lusty desires unbridled

The invisible blood thirsty witch

floats the street day and night!

Never visit her is not my advice

Many have been, returned safe

In season the crowds swells well

You can be one of those glad lot

Only don’t leave wisdom at home!

Xavier Bage

Monday, March 26, 2018

This Profession of Soulless Selfishness

 Isn’t this profession like a bloody war?

Where constant battles are fought

Cruelty and violence is the essence

And mercy and kindness are strangers

In this arena of deceit without defence!

In the race for the coveted throne

Morals are locked up in dark dungeon

Their competitors they can readily trip

And shove them into dirty ditches

Like whores they shamelessly strip!

Nay, worse they are inclined to chop off

 the legs of their co-runners close

This profession so prominently cruel

Terms itself, social service the noblest

You find sometimes a rare debating duel!

In this job of soulless selfishness

Selfless you can surely be like your fathers

But you can’t, you may not be allowed

As you walk the way at night or in daylight

Alert , yet by violence you could be swallowed!

Your eyes watching your front and sides

and your ears cocked up for any rustle

For any whisper from behind unseen

You need additional pairs of guard eyes

With hands toting guns loaded and mean!

Xavier Bage

Thursday, March 22, 2018

The Proud Pakoda and the Shamed Samosa

The fried food stall at the street corner

Doubtlessly is my favorite joint

Every evening, my legs are mesmerized

To turn that way, my will pulverized

Propelled by the pungent pull

Floating to my nostril’s particular point!

These days I find the pakodas visibly swollen

No less an authority than the Prime Minister

Has endorsed selling them as employment

Truly they provide patrons immeasurable enjoyment

I wonder why he didn’t bat for the beverage

Samosas see in it something sinister!

They know (told by the honorable himself)

That in a railway station he used to sell tea

We samosas were the natural companion

Pakodas were low cast, ask any historian

Like the Dalit and downtrodden in society

On them often you’d find likes of flea!

How the times have been a-changing

When bullet trains as blurred lines zoom

Though sidelined samosas will attend

The senior travelers if they don’t mend

 They will be honored as pathpointers

But the flower of Pakoda’s fortune will bloom, bloom!

“Hey! You may divide the platform between you.”

Yelled the chutney sans top covers

You may, if you like, call me a flirt

For I go with any fried guy, it doesn’t hurt

Hop from one party to another like  a frog

Platform or palace I have thousand lovers!

Xavier Bage

Tues, March 20, 2018

The Moment to Rise to Sublime

 The cock in the coop has crowed

The cuckoo in the grove has sung,

O my soul, soon shun the sleep

The Nature’s morn bells have rung.

To holy hymns of worship inviting!

Day after day of  precious life

Your mind bathed in the mundane,

It’s the moment to rise to sublime

In His glorious presence to deign.

The little lamp of your faith lighting!

Receive the soothing strength free

In your vessel He wills to pour,

Blessing your soul with wings

In His limitless domain to soar.

All your human mistakes righting!

Xavier Bage

Sun, March 18, 2018