theology 'for' bread...

so many books on theology you have read
it filled your bag with so much bread
but why did the rooster crow for three times?
nobody knows, including you, peter and jesus...
what theology helps you to understand
the fact that stone is not bread?

tomorrow morning you will become famous
for you will write a book for us -
'the bread theology,' you name it,
'the stone theology,' your second hit.
we buy them for 300 rupees each with discount
and with love and pride you sign on it...

but you didnt answer us, did you? and why?
250 books find place in your bibliography
“one of the intangible scholarly works,”
the ‘new york times’ remarks
you fly in seventh heaven, if there is one.
news paper, radio and television,
you are the hero of the year even in cartoon

and then, it burns the eyes of your neighbour
never in life you were together
and never you tried to be either
this is red and that, black
she is veda and he, mark
here is halva and there, burger
tell me, have you tried to taste it ever?
answer me please my dear scholar…
in what way your theology is better
than the story of the babel tower?

'feeling good' advent...

'dear friend...' the e-mail begins...
he has never seen me before, even once.
'hi dude...' my reply starts...
what a strange way to address!!!
he ponders, struggles and is disturbed.
'dear friend...' begins his e-mail, the second,
'it is not a good mannerism...'
he explains what and what not is ...ism.
i laugh not so loud but with a rythm.
how crazy is this stupid world!
he feels good if i write 'dear friend'
knowing for sure that i dont mean it.
an absolute naked untruth, to feel good...

'what then do you say about jesus?
he also addressed them dear friends...'
counteres me the white gown preacher,
he's paid for uttering non-sense from the pulpit!
i reply, 'if jesus is my running buddy
i offer him a 'knock-out' in a pub near by
and ask him, 'hey dude, tell me honestly,
did you really mean your words?'
and i am damn sure
he would suck the bear
on his thick mustache and laugh aloud...'

now my dog barks, strange and loud,
'it is a blasphemy' he wants to shout.
last time i had to stop my e-blog
a moment please just because of my dog,
he came with his partners and staged
a hunger protest infront of my gate.
he follows the ethos of freedom fight!
but this time i don't care anyone
because i have jesus with me,
i dont think it's for the sake
of that strong bear he's here...
i am told, he has come on a visit
for it is already the advent...

i curse him...

-->

i hate you, tonight,

the moon in the water, the idiot...

i haven't forgotten the night

when you cheated me to the ground.

it was, of course, my fault.

'trust him, he is worthy' whispered my heart

but my mind shouted aloud, 'he is an idiot

trust him not, believe him not'

i was slave of love and lust.

now i realise that my mind was right

but i am helpless, it's too late.

how many witnesses do you need?

i have enough to prove my love indeed.

they saw me with her near the lake

from below and from above

from sky and from the water

they witnessed the burning fire.

how passionately they watched

as we celebrated our love on that green bed!

they know how much i loved her that night.

but nobody knows, how and what...

why are you not bothered of me tonight?

is it because i am alone and without light?

i interrogate you now, you scoundrel

have you got an answer at all?

don't hide, you hypocrite, your face.

what are you ashamed of now to face?

have you not smiled with me when

i took her hands and pressed it like a man?

have you not showed your thumbs up

when i sealed her smooth and rosy lip?

today i want to show you my finger

not the thumbs up but the middle finger

and scream unto you, 'curse you man!'

shall we walk?

it happened that morning...
she was walking... slow and silent.
and there, she stopped... for a moment,
looked at me and whispered something
as i stared at that pretty fat dog on the street...

'while was i in this place...'
'what...?' puzzled were my eyebrows.
silent but not quiet... she started walking.
did she say something? no... but yes...
'hey, what did you say?' no... nothing.

it was now our second round.
the same pretty fat dog on the street
stared at me as i tried for something to find...
she held my hand but not so tight.
'i am sure, you said something,' i was loud.

the pretty fat dog was still staring at me.
i felt my hand getting weaker and weaker
'shall we sit here for a while?' i asked her.
polite was her tone, 'please, not here...'
and she started walking a bit faster
holding my hand, now a bit denser.

puzzled, confused and disturbed, i cried,
'did she say something?' but no one heard.
i looked at her. silent and now, quiet.
we took left, towards 'friends street'
there our home... but none asked
'shall we go for a third round?'