Internet beatniks

by Santosh Kalwar

Don’t stare.
       World’s is ending.
Don’t shout.
       Everybody is screaming.
Don’t scream
       Everybody is listening.
Don’t listen.
       Everybody is writing.

All the stuff are keeping us in vain
Suffocation and beautiful pain

They are saying,
Fifteen minutes of:
       Name and fame

Except these
       Random beatniks,

       That are running
All over and over
Time, and again

Height of nothingness

by Santosh Kalwar

Low in the mood field thinking,
always on this lonesome wheel-chair,
knowing that she will never feel the scent
of that rose, from the backyard of hergarden, never stretch arms wide open
and kiss to the heavenly sky/nightly stars
or dare to poke jokes, oh girl of blue eyesand sad legs, oh dear girl of silent ears andloose necks, of saddened face
I don't know if you are listening,
I don't know if you are thinking,Only when I feel the weight
of your body, is when I take you tothe bathroom; trying hard heightened
They say, "Who am I?"
Can a written connection of soul to soul
will ever be justified? Will it ever be verified?Who am I to be with you
in this tragic moment? They often ask.
And, I say:
Nothingness