Francois Decaillet photo
By
Umarani Jayaraj
the blood skies
what will happen
to you the General the Captain the politicking
Boss- brusquely in umbilical cut offs
of the spotted truths, their hardcore shining
potentials, even their subtle
heartmindsouls…the
factions you nourish by murderous
spells in blood-tinged undercurrents… all just
to save your highly market-rated and sophisticated
back this time like the countless times looks
only satisfyingly okay to your rather more insecure
and hitlerized minds atop you salute
brazenly…the agendas you form
to stage such corporate plays
are nothing less than selling virtues
and cheaply stripping bodily auditions across
mobbing dark alleys and highways
of booming commerce …don’t you
just once at all feel and sense
the fiercely boomeranging karmic forces, the
apocalyptical kali in the rising yet again
to wipe off traceless the Modern
Asuras sans art sans heart
sans soul…and in ever-plying pretence (evasive)
pace of stealthsmart moves and measured
words, articulating only with advanced
histrionics… its high-time its shagunam
now…the harmonizing micromacrocosmic
heartmindsouls in the oneness consciousness
is in the coming sooner or later
or perhaps already, for better
for faith truth and love shall prevail
there’s no more music and morning serenities lined up as we diabolically dash towards dungeoned doomsday
humming bees in spatial kolams and the muddy mother
wasps, busy hovering dragons in ‘no agenda’ planar geometries
to the chirping romantic mynas and ultra-beeping acrobatical rabbits
they all still breathe in sync with the elemental cosmos, Her
mystical dancing patterns
smothering Her tranquil scapes and species
are your in‘human’e mangling noises
boring bleeding her core
until to be digging Her rudra and thandav
in apocalyptical dusts
‘showing now’
in teasers of hurricanes and wildfires
dengues and nuclear threats and dirty politics
and more. such sprees of destruction n deaths
seem suicidal self-accelerated destiny perhaps
as Her the Kali’s wrath flares up incremental
and but a poet is not just a hardcore romantic
Poetic soul is not blind n in sidelined silence
hope, harmony and pacifications
are his/hers ongoing rituals to Her
Umarani Jayaraj
Umarani Jayaraj is a poet of Southern India’s Manchester City, Coimbatore. She writes in English, but is not uncommon when it comes mixed with Indianisations, i.e., Tamil/ Sanskrit or Hindi words spread in some works. Her poems had found a place in Indian Poetry Anthologies (‘Scaling Heights’ 2014, ‘Indus Valley’ 2012) & International Online Magazines like the Prachya Review, Serendipity Magazine). She is a regular poet at Deep Underground Poetry and blogs at https://uma136.wordpress.com/, also literarily active on twitter/ Instagram, etc.
Her poetic themes revolve around soul-searching- spiritual and romance and almost anything felt intense inner around and beyond, often with metaphorical juxtapositions, abstract & surrealistic imageries with interspersed wordplays.
A Food Professional & a Single Parent, being a poet is an inborne and eternal condition and being poetic is naturally necessarily being in a soul’s beautiful [~enigmatic chaotic lunatic ecstatic nomadic melancholic~] pure freeform continuum in love’s newnessness from the varifold bleeds and pains and deaths…all in the depth of depths… that which manifests in a subtle artistic exuberance of words, tears, silence, suchmore to the bold revolutionary tones of a molten red righteous rage in eruptive flows… and much more infinite inexplicabilities.