A bad rap, for Spotify

So you listen to Kanye on Spotify

for ten dollars a month, or forty-five?

Oh its free, coz you're too mortified

to pay for your music, but what if I

asked you to try and quantify

the value of art - you're unqualified!   

Okay so, may be I can edify:

Great music is rare, so hard to find

harder to make, platinum certified

Takes months or years, not just 9to5

Its heart and soul, you can't define
No, art ain't a job, don't stultify

'Tis why its time for a change, to modify

the rules of the game, and clarify
that stealing is stealing, can't justify

Free isn't fair, and its part of why
Taylor's right, and we've gotta fight

this piracy and looting, we can defy.

A space traveler's song

....... 

इस पल आयें हैं, फिर कब जायेंगे?

कहने-सुनने आयें थे; समझ के जायेंगे,

मेरा ना कोई है पता इस जगह पर,

यूं तो है मेरा ये जहां...

लाया क्या मैंने? कम मेरा है यहाँ पर,

शायद हो पेहले से बसता-बसा सब यहाँ,

....... 

तारें भी कैसे टिम-टिमाते रातों में,

कोई ना तन्हा है वहाँ...

चले ही जाते हैं ये दिल को लुभाके,

इन्ही के जाते ही आये सवेरा यहाँ...

Credits : Sifar , Lucky Ali  - सिफर , लकी अली 

Nothing is Wholly Good or Wholly Evil

Poetry and prose

does poetry 

have more beauty

than prose?

who knows?

There is a certain honesty in the latter. Justice is done to meaning. Ideas are conveyed - effectively, clearly, forcefully.

Staid sometimes, and perhaps too direct at others, it occasionally meanders into a purple, usually from overdosing on colorful, extravagant, redundant, superfluous, unnecessary adjectives.

Rules of grammar are like solemn marriage vows.

but i suppose

surely a rose,

is the more pretty

of a fir tree

Poems can evoke boundless emotion. Stirring romance and pathos in equally deep measure. Affected and extravagant.

Yes, lyric and meter are ever passionate mistresses, not always faithful. Insincerity is allowed, forgiven and even desired.

The freedom of infidelity is liberating.

does form follow function?

if rhymes betray some unction 

or is it perhaps the converse?

if words are born of the verse

can't the sun's dazzling brilliance also turn a heart so joyous?
can the moon's seductive luminance even inspire a flash of genius?

what one could write
in high noon's light
may not sound right
on a starry night
what's poetry and what is prose

say now who knows?

who knows who knows?

Cold and cloudless sky

Like a calm placid lake

Each star tells a story

As long burns his fire

In heaven and on earth

Glorious Light

Behold the Light that shines so,

it dispels every lingering doubt

the way that flickering stars go

when the glorious sun comes out.

To be a tree

Oh to be

a tree

is to be

so free

To sway with the wind

in effervescent dance

Oh to be

a tree

is to be

so free

To stay still in peace

and endless trance

Oh to be

a tree

is to be

so free

To return blows of the axe

with shade and fruit.

Oh to be

a tree

is to be

so free

To reach for the skies

and be true to the root.

Walk where the mind ends

Happiness depends not

on the road that you walk on,

or in the sight you behold without,

but

in the mode that you walk in,

and the light you shine within.

Where the river ends, ocean begins,

Where the trail ends, discovery begins.

Where the fear ends, freedom begins.

Where the words end, knowledge begins.

Where the individuality ends, universality begins.

Where the mind ends, happiness begins.