Ode to the master-spinner and / or the nervous eleventh

The decision was yours

To gently retire

From your celebrated foothold

In the "gentlemen's sport";


 
Your eight-hundredth wonder

Made your mark

to glow in gold

In the ancient scrolls of imperial sport.


 
We shan't forget

The way you bore

The vicious stare of Darrell Hair

So quietly and gently, once upon a time.


 
Your innocent and affable smile

remained the same

in times of joy and merriment

as well as in times of bewilderment


 
These lines shan't be an elegy

For retired Murali

Who still smiles

in our test-cricket dream.


 
Being the constant eleventh

In the batting lineup

Your magic wrist made for spinning

Worked nervous wonders


 
You invented,

Your own fours and sixes

To save our souls

In nearly lost battles.


 
Despite the bars of ethnicity

Every Sri Lankan cricket fan

Loved you, adored you

and Ignored your nationality.


 
And that's how in a way

You made the bridge of piece

Among the quarreling nations

At least in cricket.


 
So let me crown thee

The sporty emblem

of peace and harmony

in the purl of east, the rising miracle of Asia.


 

 

 

Glory of the Sri Lankan History in a Nutshell

url=http://www.imagesofasia.com/gadget/igoogle/srilanka.xml&synd=open&w=300&h=290&title=Old+Sri+Lanka&border=%23ffffff%7C3px%2C1px+solid+%23999999

The Harvest of Freedom

They've ripped their "crops"

The "first" after those years of tears

Fresh and partly alive

Just like their blooming hopes and wishes.


 
While those happy hunters;

The gifted earls of a blue paradise

Celebrate their fresh freedom,

The "harvest" loses the final struggle

Gradually as their territory shrinks.


 
The sides have been flipped

From land to the waters,

from the runners to the swimmers.

The ring of ever-shrinking territory.


 
In cities they marvel,

Admire and taste

The victory, the freedom,

the tears and even life

Anthum of an Outcast

"Neither here nor there"

That's how it sounds like;

That's how it smells like;

That's how it tastes like…

 

But does it really…

seem like that?

Does it really

Matter to you?

 

The outcaste imagines you mumble…

"mmm well… not really"

In your rat race you stumble

And you lose the links you cherished so dearly.

 

The mouth-watering carrots

That your all mighty(s) hath hung beyond your reach,

Hoist you above other parrots

Whose envy you win with your speech

 

When your faculties help you no more

To quench their thirst of lip service,

A shocking revelation shudders your core

When you realize that your days are numbered.

 

An outcast they call you hence

At first it'll make no sense

By the time you reach your fence

You'll learn it all in every sense.

From: So-called Nonentities To: Nigas and Whites who rule the world

 

 

"Democracy is a mockery"

Nobody can deny

Where? It's everywhere!

Nobody can deny

 

Leaches on the mattresses

Nigas in the sky-scrapers

All mighty whity fans

Rock and roll the nigas' cans.

 

To call us morons

Do you dare?

To say "Blame it on me"

Do you care?

 

You worry about some stones

Are they mightier than your nukes?

You query about Buddhist teachings

Have we slandered yours?

 

Keep your asses

Off our matters;

Cause you were toddling

At the time we were shimmering

 

 

Not in your neo-colonization;

But in human civilization.

 

Note:

 

These thoughts were aroused by the blog-post and related comments which can be reached via the following URL

 

http://new.music.yahoo.com/blogs/hiphopmediatraining/253602/akon-sexy-chick-video-considered-blasphemous-to-buddhists-sri-lankan-visa-denied/?page=2#comments

No-Job Company

 

 

They wait and pray for an unknown angel,

An angel who breeds loads of pennies.

In those picketing dreams they see their angel

With the jingling and glistening pennies.

 

"The hand-to-mouth existence" of which they might have learned;

Is the only option left for some.

The others whose parents spend the pittance they'd earned,

Upon those efforts with just no out come.

 

With heavy hearts which lack consciences,

They play their parts in crowded streets

In public places they offer services,

Which cause the cops reach banging heats.

 

In the elecrtion-summer they get some sweets,

That make them trapped through their ecstatic senses

And of course they've to pay for those sweets,

With a cross that makes them forever losers.

 

There's no difference in the final outcome,

Cause both parties get a hearty laugh.

Though the company gets no income

The rates and statistics remain high

 

There lies the wonderful verity

Hidden in an unidentified global network

The company marked in the history of humanity

Expands further like a divine woodwork

New milestones

 

"Second to none" I've heard they say.

If you haven't, scowl at me you may.

Whatever the things we strongly believe,

May be the things they've told to deceive.

 

Is it only us who have been fed thus?

Is it only us who are to be tricked thus?

Aren't we supposed to pass them on?

So that the future minds to will be gone

 

Efficiency, productivity and all this bluff.

Strategies and management just make them all stuffed.

It's this 'time' who does the trick

None can stop it from slipping it within a click.

 

"Old is gold" so does the 'time'.

All one wants is just the 'time'

Many to be achieved and more to be lost

Few may win but many get lost.