Gone for a toss

Whose happiness is greater than whose
And whose sadness will you choose
They are the two sides of the same coin
Heads of happiness have tails of sadness
While the hearts are stuck in the middle
With their vain attempts to sort the riddle
Judgments will be passed, poems written
But to the nightly warmth we all return.
The dawn is without answers in stone
And the struggle starts again alone.
Libraries of answers stacked in memory
Never become the sufficient armory
The shield is lowered, the protection ceased
Hunt is on with the booby traps greased
With all this we grow many layers of skin
And a widely misunderstood sheepish grin.

Our Thoreau

Thoreau of our troubled times
lives in a house with wind chimes.
He sends Email, tweets and blogs
Those are the woods for his jogs.
He holds a PhD in taxation
His life long fixation
He occupies a place in Occupy
Watches TV with a regular sigh
He hears things beyond the drone of Drones
Sees footage of the living and then their bones
Of the far-away land where bomb smoke rises
Where every corner suicidally uprises.
A whistle blower from within, he doesn't rest
Till all the governments are put to test
Post nine-eleven he is the same
Questions the torture methods of shame
He often goes in search of forest and light
Deeper and deeper into the human plight.

Sambar stain

I walk in the rain
Sing aloud in my brain
Sit on a chair with strain
And on my jeans a sambar stain

I am too furious to walk away
My coffee wants me to stay
There's loads of work to do
And the Windows of my mind turns blue

Horror, Horror Mr. Conrad
Everywhere things go bad
A hopeful end hangs by the rope
In the darkness where I grope

I raise my hands in this dance
My difficult partner is Chance
A tango of my travails and none others'
While every dream this world smothers

It rains deadlines. Pouring troop lines
Tonight all who are in this crib
Have nothing else but to crib
Are the stars out of their light?
We don't know and that's the delight