Free Rider (Dedicated to my friend Steve)

Now, in these towns they all know your name,
Riding the dust and in the dust rusts the rugged fame;
Of devil's riders and their leather armor, life bled
Through engines, throttles high playing highway games.

With bad company, through devil's bends we ride,
Saddling up and eyes on the road till the day we die.
We the forgotten and we who forget seize the day,
Coz at night we are the vanguards of the bleeding highway.

We ride for freedom, we ride for lost friends, we ride
For the dead life we lost at the canyon's end. By the sea
And through the meadows the engines roar with pride,
Coz life's a bitch, now its on my bed and I've got nothing-
Nothing left to hide!

The rainy wind on our faces reminds us of the days
Of six gun lovers, of the love once lost and my home's
Misty haze. But, the rain soothes our faces, only bones
And leather laces, it hides the tears and bathes the skin-
Coz what is life without some sin?

Now, in these towns they all know our names,
Riding the dust and in the dust we shall remain
Till another one rides over our bones, feeling alive
While their engine moans! That's gonna be our
Cemetary coz riders we are for life...

We worship the demon, the demon of speed and
A thousand times we've died. The road remains
And so does the spirit till another one joins the line.
So, we just ride like the gale winds, storm at our heels

Coz, never will we sleep, till we 're buried deep
Beneath these memories. So, cock up and ride
Speed demons and dont let the day steal your
Hunger for freedom, the lust for life and the ever
Faithful highway! Just cock up and ride...

© Malyaban Lahiri

Raag Megh-Malhaar

A sudden torrential innerburst, mind numbing

And tearful in extent. What is it? Where in 

Natures bountiful mysteries does this figure?

Overflowing inner joy but by no means peaceful,

Like a matrimony of Ghalib's pain with the joys

Of the rain!

A welcome yet unsure change between hazy days of

Self yielding grey. What mist, what silence, what

Rhythm brings about this cataclysm of overwhelming

Heaviness in the throat, skipped beats in the heart

And a rush of ecstacy in my blood? A sense of such

Seductive anticipation..

A timeless time on the clocks that remains unseen

Just so the soul can enjoy these fleeting yet strong

Lapses of unhindered selfless freedom. Inward collages

Of crashing waterfalls, stubborn rivers, golden fields

Of wheat and green valleys of flowers. The focus of a

Tiger and the suspense of a deer. Oh what is it?

This resonanting tune of the flute, the naughty string

Games of a sitar, the push of the tabla beats and the

Binding sorrow of the piano- the outburst in the inner!

Then, when I open my eyes, harness my senses ready to 

Plunge in the senseless mediocrity does my mind answer-

It's the raag Megh-Malhaar!

© Malyaban Lahiri

A Malady

The proverbial all pervading calm and inner peace,

Stability is what we choose to call it- to earn greens,

To eat them, to share it or to control it. So escapable

Yet, always avoided. The veil of contentment ever

So fallible.

Moving from thatched roofs to brick and mortar,

Crawling from unleavened bread to croissant and

From the hard cold ground to the fluffy bed of roses-

We cry, we try, we fall and we die, but then there's 

This small moment of rise.

Unseen, often unfelt, unknown and yet mildly present.

The only pure drop of human essence that is- but a drop;

Yet, if embraced it presents enlightened apes with wings to

Soar beyond the cutlery and the bed and diamonds and

Roofs. Its there but never yet...

Why do I the naive poet type my verses on this machine?

Why does the rickshaw puller not opt to buy a higher 

Mechanism of sustenance? Why do you think of conquering

The space while the same increases in light years between us?

Where is that drop? That essence of intended genetics?

Or maybe intended is what we make of it. Individual freedom

And the consequent 'progress' or digress. A place where graffiti

Almost topples the la politica and, deaths of millions and voices

Of the troubled are channeled like the AM frequency. A drop to

Each one of you dear mortals!

Breathing free sans the fear of someone at the door, sleeping

In peace sans the unrest within, listening to the wind without

A play button to press and walking the muddied path without

The cacophony of horns. Some of the things we inherently want

When the body is born naked.

Then? We grow up and down and up again like a spiral. A 

Careful reduction of the equation that wasnt meant to be a

Circumspect effort. I equals to human so you equal to?

Oh wait! There's a square root on top... Tough luck child.

That drop is there somewhere but we are reduced.

We grow up but never grow back!

 © Malyaban Lahiri

Evolve

The need for flagellation is intense,

Like the will of death creeping and

At bay... The doc's medicine is working,

Stopping it at the doorstep, a step at a time.

The need for solitude has never been

So fiery but, the fear of it more potent

And effervescent like epsom salt.

Bubbling at every stimulus my brain reads.

Why does it require for a man to fear

Liberation over tyranny of self?Why

Isn't the sea full enough to quench his

Thirst for novelty? Evolution at its best!

The Sapiens should grow a tail and dwell

On foliage while the apes may take the

Scepter and rule with instinct and preach

Instinctual liberation. Or maybe its just me.

Yours Truly...

©