In the Name of Conscience.

  In the Name of Conscience.

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Conscience is the archive

Of each one’s guilt and qualms,

Sins and confessions secretly saved.

Some log in, on a regular basis.

A few make erratic clicks.

For many, it is a recycle bin,

Never worth visiting.

Sanity is the deodorant for sanitizing

The corridors of an unclean conscience.

To be tagged in the timeline of conscience,

One needs moral and spiritual courage.

Those who keep deleting ,

Their thoughts and deeds rotten,

To manipulate an ideal inbox,

Make their life an over loaded litter bin,

That mortifies others’ routine,

With viruses invading the social network.

The true conscience keepers are those

Who recycle not the wrong for the right.

                                                    P.Chandrasekaran.

Oh My Money Money !.

                       Oh My Money Money !.

Money is life’s monitor;

Currency is the comforter of the heart’s rhythms.

Life’s journey on the ever escalating

Denominations of currency is fond of newer peaks,

Both in black and white.

No! never racial, religious or communal;

But diabolically all- inclusive,

Money like a sorcerer, traps life into

A trauma of sedation and servitude.

Many make it and some earn it;

But quite a few call it quits, for want of will,

While a robin hood fancy robs it too, from others’ bill.

‘Cash or cheque, stash it all’ tendency prevails.

For currency is a fabulous frenzy,

Feeding one’s whims with the power to rule.

The higher the heap, the heartier it becomes .

The makers of money have a package for the future,

With date and value of maturity ever extending.

Those who earn it, make its proceeds,

Valid only until their date of expiry.

Quitting the game is a bet for debt and penury.

Not all who rob the vulnerable, end up in jail.

The thrill of their game at times,

Drives automated teller machines to an autistic spell.

When the swindlers play a scientific game,

All that we know is ,the money is robbed.

But no one has a cue as to, who has robbed it

And where has it all gone.

The truth of the matter is, the money is with those,

To whom the world belongs tomorrow,

With its tentacles multiplying institutionally,

Here, there and every where,

Routing, roaming and roaring with invisible might,

Like a robotic terminator with rage unleashed,

With its human face lost long ago,

In e-banking and electronic cash- dispensing portals.

                                                                              P.Chandrasekaran.