Sleep

Sleep, a cataleptic state,
Where the body recedes
Into its helpless mortality.
Bearing its greasy clutches,
Sleep creeps, at its own time,
Like a pleasant predator,
Thief extraordinaire,
Unresponsive to statuses,
To envelop its target.
A nature’s oily paraphernalia, 
Which demands its share of time,
From humanity and co.,
Pleasurably,
To induce the brain to re-calibrate,
And the self to re-invigorate,
For its endless toils.
Wait a minute,
“Let sleeping dogs lie”.
For all spices in India,
Many could fail to “catch a sleep”.
They use mixtures of inducements,
To coax passing experiences
Of sleep!
However,
As soon as “I hit the sack”,
I do fall fast asleep.
I was made to understand,
One can “sleep like a log”.
Nevertheless,
Not to “over-sleep”,
With challenges to “sleep on”.
For example,
Responsibilities to children,
Our women and our men,
Who often “loose” their sleep;
To keep trust and give dues
To whom they are rightly due,
Will make it wrong “to go to sleep”.
Were “sleeping giants” to awake,
Things may be done without slip.
Nobody needs to “loose sleep”,
With Justice, equity and fair-play,
With He who forever never sleeps,
We can “do things in our sleep”.

Mercy

Respect they who live with infirmities,
including poverty and inequities,
caused by sleaze, misrule and plagues,
those with disease who can hardly ‘breath’,
those with faulty limbs or with none at all.
I do not infer those who fall,
In the abyss of poverty that is tyranny,
custodians of greed and debauchery.
I do not surmise maladies induced by mischief,
that will forever remain a source of grief,
And a burden with no immediate relief.

I mean those whose lives are put on line
of life’s battle field infested with mines.
Struggling for normal lives,
often held by ‘sticks’ and ‘knives’.
Yet they move on in tranquillity,
Bearing deprivations with equanimity.
Most think they bear no pains,
since they entreat not anyone for aids.
They own everything as they seek to find,
Peace as strength for their body and mind.
Better being calm than going wild.

They project greatness of intention,
Not to dirge over their condition,
But strive for lawful sustenance,
within what their ability could countenance.
‘My condition’, they say, ‘is but a test,
to make me great of character and grace’.
Those may be physically malformed,
but we are morally deformed.
They do little in the positive way,
We do more but in disarray
So we are continually entrapped in rage,

We are well formed in physique and health,
And basking in unlimited wealth,
With jobs and wages well ahead of the rest,
We build appetite for all that is best,
But we grumble and look sideways always,
following ways to circumvent decent ways.
We impose, on our fellows, awful situations,
Yet block their chances of getting solutions.
Those hardly get what to cover their head,
They eat just in order to forge ahead,
and hopefully put their minds at ease,

We eat and belch without shame.
We feel not to share in the blame.
Our bloated guts and sleaze,
Appear as eloquent symbols of our greed.
Is big necessary though it engenders regrets?
I thought a blessed little could make us great,
And help us to achieve our noble goals,
of developing hearts of gold?
Let’s positive fragrances permeate the air.
Flowers of sympathy should stand clear,
to make mercy our goal and charted sphere.