On the Horizon

Tell me where to sit
Tell me who to see
Hammer me with rules
Abuse authority
Trace my every move
Cancel all my plans
Cage me in my room
Make me fear my hands
Smear me with your caution
Fill me up with fright
Test me till I fit your scheme
Pretend you know what’s right
Muzzle me, protect me
Feed me false statistics
Televise your jagged lies,
Agendas and logistics
Whittle down my contacts
Prohibit us from touch
Ground us all like infants
With your soulless iron clutch…

Just know that you are arming
A web of vigilantes
There on the horizon
Om shanti shanti shanti

Am I a cook, or am I a dancer?

I shuffle in. The kitchen’s still
The floor is mine, all mine
I lace my apron with a frill
The light’s come on: Showtime.

My body starts to tic and tingle
– sensing what the hour brings
A delectable and fluid mingle
With vegetables and other things.

It starts off with a gentle pull,
A balance on one leg
One, Two step (heedless of rule)
A tap, a crack, an egg.

A flick of the wrist, a swish of the arm
The breath, quicker yet steady
A hip shake, oblivious of its charm
This sequence: done and ready.

Now up the passion, up the heat
Fire up and flow!
What’s that – rhythmic, tapping feet?
The neighbours smell – and know.

The elbow spins, the spoon it swirls
It’s noticeably synchronous!
Aromas loop, as body twirls

Back in my place of blissfulness.