The past is long gone dead

So, why live in the past,

When we know from the very start

That, nothing’s meant to, ever, last.

Life’s a day and a night thing

The morning’s the one called Hope,

That’s what keeps us alive and kicking

And, helps us with Life, cope.

The larger picture’s all very well

But where do I fit in, I say,

That landscape’s pretty in a painting

But, I need the two meals a day

Square or otherwise, matters not

So long as body and soul are together,

It’s my life that I have to sustain

Can’t live it with hope pinned on a picture.

To each his/ her own was, perhaps, never truer

The present never more vibrant,

The past never more extinct

And never more, irrelevant.

Learn from history and the past

Was what was once propounded,

Philosophical thought’s all very good

But, the left the masses are only confounded.

Never mind history and the past

We seldom learn from our own mistakes,

Never mind what the ancestors did

Who ever learns from what another partakes.

You like coffee and I like tea

Where does choice come in,

Do what you wish and as you do

Remember, stepping on toes is also a sin.

Goodbye philosophy, goodbye sermon

It’s my life to live as I want till the end,

The world’s wise enough to take care of itself

I have my own garment to mend.

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permission of the author Ashok Sawhny. Having said that, the author is always open to proposals and can be contacted

via www.ashoksawhny.com

If handsome is what handsome does

There’d be a pretty narcissistic world,

Mirrors in great demand, and

Noses twitched and lips curled.

Flowing curls of lovely hair

That suit a lady better,

Would be the norm for macho men

Handsome, the trend- setter.

‘Cause, the handsome do nothing else

Look pretty for the ladies,

No connect with the Good Lord’s Heaven

Closely linked to Hades.

So, before you coin another phrase

Think, carefully, please do,

Pretty language may sound pretty

But, be awfully far from being true.

Adios!

Note :All material in this product is the intellectual property of Ashok Sawhny and cannot be used in any way without the written

permission of the author Ashok Sawhny. Having said that, the author is always open to proposals and can be contacted

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Where, O where, is Paradise

Somewhere beyond the blue skies

Or, beneath the land and the seas

Tell me not those darned lies

We cant prove it as we can't the Lord

Like in the multitude who's the broad

Theres an "iffiness" about all things we know

The one who rules may not be the one who roared

Why not let each one decide

Where's Heaven, where does the Lord reside,

In the skies beyond the pale, somewhere

Or, in the heart and mind somewhere hide.

To each his own applies best

This is not another test,

Belief is all and constant faith

No witnesses needed, no need attest.

Let's learn to live in quiet and peace

Let God, too, dream and sleep,

If He's disturbed beyond repair

How's He going to help us our sanity, keep.

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permission of the author Ashok Sawhny. Having said that, the author is always open to proposals and can be contacted

via www.ashoksawhny.com

O, the Times! O, the Customs

Change, the only constant,

Bewail not, Lament not

Life, no more than this instant.

Yesterday, was never there

Except in the veils of Memory,

Like the albums of the Past

Illusion, as is Eternity.

Comparisons, always, awfully, odious

Extensions of the lives we led,

Clinging to us all the time

Till, the last thing we ever said.

No one better, no inferior

Mortal is all human frame,

A pack of cards, Jokers all

That is all there is to Life’s game.

Adios.

Note:All material in this product is the intellectual property of Ashok Sawhny and cannot be used in any way without the written

permission of the author Ashok Sawhny. Having said that, the author is always open to proposals and can be contacted

via www.ashoksawhny.com

I wish you real happiness

In meadows green and in wilderness,

But, I love my illusions and mirages

For reality is a fibrous mess.

The weft and weave of the fabric today

Right, is only what the Preachers say,

The leaders, the rulers, not far behind

In the corny games we all play.

Drifting clouds, so very pretty

Fluffy white moves silently,

I get lost in them somewhere

As stars arouse envy in me.

Two plus two is always four

But, stretch the imagination, try for more,

Reality is a bit of a bore

A story morose, why not folklore

I love the elves, the “airies”, the fairies

The Wild West and the Prairies, Dreary, the sands on the shore

I love the seas and their mysteries.

Illusion, Delusion, Utopia

Puppets in full regalia,

The world’s a stage said the Bard

Oh! The ecstasy of a Dervish’s mania.

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permission of the author Ashok Sawhny. Having said that, the author is always open to proposals and can be contacted

via www.ashoksawhny.com

All things wise and wonderful

All things great and small,

Before, they age and fall.

All things start from the seed

Mixed, with dust and weed,

True it is of all things

True it is, indeed.

The first two lines that I recall

Were in reference to God making all,

We’d look at the stars, my sister and I

Wondering, how, where and why.

We gloat about things

About achievements and stuff

About invention and innovation,

And, bombastic, indeed, does it

In no time become

A narcissistic narration.

I think and I wonder too

On what is the anatomy of “greatness”,

Who is lauded and who applauded

And, is it just great finesse.

Is it artistry, a bit of razzle-dazzle

Were legends and “greats” truly superior,

Better than the best, why and how

Did they make us, the others, feel inferior.

Only then was I, truly, struck

By the naiveté in all this,

“Greatness”, then was laid to rest

And, its anatomy, indeed, put to test.

What lay behind it everywhere

Everyone, Everything, was

Horrifyingly simple,

Like, all it takes

For a flashing smile

Is a tiny, little, dimple.

And, so it is with “brilliance”

Nothing more than than toil,

Don’t give me that “donkey” thing, folks

Else,

In, sheer, hopelessness

I might recoil.

True greatness lies in humility

In simplicity

In the recognition of equality,

We are human

Every woman, each man

Do what you like, or what you can.

He, who cares for another

He, who compassion reveals

He, who does a kindly turn

He, who fairly deals.

He, who praises some other

Is embarrassed by the praise of the self,

He worships the One and the Only

Not, lucre, nor the mirage of wretched pelf.

He, the one who can lay claim

To being always true to goodness,

He, the only one, then

To be miles away

From the duplicitous veil  of

“greatness”.

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permission of the author Ashok Sawhny. Having said that, the author is always open to proposals and can be contacted

via www.ashoksawhny.com

Where do we go when we finally go

Some say this and some say that,

Heaven, Swarg, Jannat et al

To play ball or wield a bat.

Maybe “houris”, elves and fairies there

In front of the Lord or behind His back

Maybe, we find the steps to Hell

Maybe, with the door open, just a crack.

Hell might well be the better place

Sin around without shame,

Fires to warm us when it gets cold

No badges that carry our “wounded” name.

Always, clamber up if the going gets hot

The Lord above is known to forgive,

Why stay on and risk getting shot

Hell, always, there when u want to “live”.

Life’s a bore without some fun

Whether in Hell or in Heaven,

There must be some pubs or taverns there

That open at seven and then…………

‘Tis always wise to plan ahead

What we’ll do when we breast the tape,

Less of life and empty the head

And, awaiting us the “heavenly” cape.

Believe it or not, it’s our choice

Can’t be forced down the gullet,

Be Masters of our destinies, or

Let Him pull the strings, be the Puppet.

Poetry is a whole lot of crap

As is arcane Philosophy,

Let’s leave Heaven and Hell well alone

Shrouded in deep mystery.

Adios

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permission of the author Ashok Sawhny. Having said that, the author is always open to proposals and can be contacted

via www.ashoksawhny.com

If you care for me

Then do so now,

There’s nothing there

In the eternal vow.

Uncertainty, dogs us

All through life,

As drowned we are

By constant strife.

Eternity is just mirage

Hankering, as in desert sands,

Surrounded by storms and gales

Seeking solace in faraway lands.

Mortality, is what defines life

Eternity, is a wild dream,

Think of childhood, think of Heaven

Think of tadpoles and that stream.

Fill each breath with zest for Life

Thank the stars for that lovely light,

Thank the night for restful sleep

And, Dawn for that magical sight

For we all have promises to keep, but

The less you promise the better you’ll sleep,

Being true to ourselves and the vows we make

Is, wise as the ocean, silent and deep.

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permission of the author Ashok Sawhny. Having said that, the author is always open to proposals and can be contacted

via www.ashoksawhny.com

Let the fecundity of the imagination run riot

Let wild be the growth of things,

Let birds of a feather flock together

And, stifle not the voice that sings.

There is no difference ‘tween Man and Man

The world belongs to everyone,

Flora, Fauna, Seas and Oceans

The Moon, the stars, the rising Sun.

Deep down in our hearts somewhere

Resides the One we beseech in prayer,

To guide us through both light and dark

Bewildered, as we stand and stare.

The equality of Man shall never alter

Try, then stumble, stifle and falter,

The color of skin, the look on the face

No matter, Ongsa, Arshad, Ashok or Walter.

Think, Oh Man, lest yourself you destroy 

Through insidious attempts and worse ploy, 

Think again and thoughtfully 

Afore it’s late and it’s, Ship Ahoy!

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permission of the author Ashok Sawhny. Having said that, the author is always open to proposals and can be contacted

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I speak for myself alone

To each his own is too well known,

Mirrors never tell a lie, and

To pretensions we’re all too prone.

There are no Saints amongst us all

No one here without a fall,

The Devil too has a job to do

To tarnish those who stand too tall.

Humble must be life’s play

There really is no other way,

Power and pelf are paper toys

What more is there to say.

We know all this, there’s nothing new

We all know what is eternally true,

“Dust thou art to dust returnest”

There never was a clearer clue.

Notice :All material in this product is the intellectual property of Ashok Sawhny and cannot be used in any way without the written

permission of the author Ashok Sawhny. Having said that, the author is always open to proposals and can be contacted

via www.ashoksawhny.com