let freedom ring

let freedom ring

softly in the wheat fields

golden

let freedom ring

loudly on the street corner

amplified by a beggar's crow

let freedom ring

let it spill from the mountaintop

let it swell from the currents

of the deepest ocean

let our freedom ring

so that no man or woman or child

is deafened and smothered

by the chains of bias

the chasm of hatred

the despair of violence unto others

let freedom ring

again and again

amen

adt

short hills, nj

Copyright 2010 all rights reserved arpit d. trivedi

H2O

in the river outside

the daylight swims

close to the banks

never a dull minute passes

along the stream

the current, fierce under the wave

carries with it my dream

subtle, not tidy

whole, but not too much so

grander than the last

still like oxygen

then, the dam breaks

simple motion multiplied

a force of nature

colliding with my brain

splitting my body like a knife

splits a melon

just a little bit of resistance

but sweet nonetheless

adt

short hills, nj

Copyright 2010 all rights reserved arpit d. trivedi

renaissance men

renaissance men

forlorn, having lost everything

caged by their modesty

moored, deep in the mud

bubbling up from their past

not to worry

the lust in their hearts

grows weaker now

courage to live right

and rites of passage face them

like bold stanzas across time

meter unbroken, but

the words meander

along gilded pages, frozen in time

and they search, slow, pensive,

wide and far 'round the earth

for one last chance at love,

one minute of rebirth

adt

short hills, nj

Copyright 2010 all rights reserved arpit d. trivedi

the escape artist

measured, tactile
brushed aside early
was the sound of my heart beating
around the corner
a parade of forgiveness
marched, unrestrained
for the silencer of conscience
even on sunday morning
pews awaken, gleam with
an arc non-convenant
smiles, shameless smiles
and the silent one
becomes the king evermore
and the sea of followers
ebbs
flows
and falls back again
and my heart beats
cradled by my tears
nevermore

adt

short hills, nj

Copyright 2010 all rights reserved arpit d. trivedi

artifacts in still life

in sterile rooms

broken glass, stained hands

oil stained

painted a dull ache

a billowing wind

not tied to any specific

artifacts

or topography

or Japanese garden

painted only a small inkblot

red, deep red

not more or less

the glass filled the spaces

reflections of a simpler

room of fiction

damsels distressed

and heirloom menageries,

still but impassioned

adt

short hills, nj

Copyright 2010 all rights reserved arpit d. trivedi

brooklyn never smelled so teen spirit

crawl to the edge
push over the hedges and run
to the other one
nothing sorts out
nothing comes up roses
but i have my notes
carefully crafted
black ink, Waterman
i keep them in my back pocket
storage for hipster nomads
that dart in between the puddles
Brooklyn never smelled so teen spirit
i'm not sure if i can even say that


adt

short hills, nj

Copyright 2010 all rights reserved arpit d. trivedi

war crimes

receding tempests
coasting down the path
nothing but somber battle drums
sound, true not bright
each soldier a figure in time
dancing 'cross the shallow
noting enemies' brazen aria
bold cacophony, light machine
"fire in the hole," rings proud
softened by the cries
of boys shouldering you and I
pray not for rain, for gold
or for your soul
pray the tempest ends
and father time brings them home

adt

short hills, nj

Copyright 2010 all rights reserved arpit d. trivedi